That split second spiralled across Dilly's mind in slow, syrupy ribbons.
Her feet slipped. The noose bit into her throat, just under her chin. The hot Dol Amroth sun glared into her eyes.
Someone screamed, and Dilly spared a moment to hope it hadn't been her. -- But no: it was unlikely someone being hanged would have the breath for screaming. It must be someone in the crowd.
So that was all right, then.
And then, like a wave breaking over her head, time reasserted itself. The crowd was roaring; that woman was still screaming -- "Stop! Stop!" -- and Dilly was...
Dilly spared a shakey and slightly scatterbrained moment to ascertain that she was not, in fact, dead. After checking the basics – non-transparency, lack of dangling corpse, etc. – she risked a glance at the executioner. He was staring vaguely at the lever that opened the trapdoor, a glazed, bewildered expression in his eyes.
That was when Dilly noticed something odd going on at the borders of consciousness: a kind of rhythmic pressure that was almost – almost – like a voice…
Stop. Stop. Let go. Step away. You don’t want to do this…It sounded strangely like the same voice that had been screaming. Dilly, listening, experienced a sudden and fervent desire to move away from the hangman’s lever. This was a bit bizarre, because she was already several feet away from it and had rather more pressing things she should be wanting to move away from – such as the creaking trapdoor underfoot. It looked a bit… unstable.
The hangman, eyes blanker than ever, unwrapped his fingers from the lever and backed off several paces.
At this point, with certain death looking only semi-certain, Dilly’s starved lungs took the opportunity to remind her of the importance of breathing. The breaths might, after all, be her last. But there was a scream building deep in Dilly's chest, and she wasn't sure it would be a good idea to feed it, or even open her mouth.

At this point, it occurred to Dilly that her brain might be working on a slightly different level of coherence than was advisable, given the circumstances. She was even hearing voices, for heavens’ sake.
…Suspiciously persuasive and helpful voices, with an incredible sense of dramatic timing.
Dilly’s head shot up.
She spotted the person she was looking for almost immediately: a nondescript woman in Gondorian dress, her eyes black as spilled ink, blank and shining with the power she drew upon.

The Immies had found their Muse.

Last edited by Tuima on Sat Dec 13, 2008 2:48 am, edited 1 time in total.

“Mnhmf-mmhhn!” Dilly screamed at the Muse. She received in return a flicker of amusement and a memory of her mother’s voice: Don’t talk with your mouth full.“Shnhm-mff!” Dilly shouted at her.
“What’s going on?” a familiar voice asked in tones of steely pleasantry. Maenadan cut through the crowd to the gallows like a particularly well-dressed Moses through a crowded sea. One thumb caressed his silver badge of office. His jewelled rapier hilt strewed beams of colored light in his path like subservient rainbows. Cloak and hair swept out behind him as he moved.
He stopped several feet from the gallows, feet planted wide, and said, “Hangsman! Do your duty!”
“Hang on,” a voice objected from out of the crowd. “Don’t we even get to hear what she did?”
“You have had the accusation of treason read before you,” said Maenadan.
“True,” said his anonymous opponent. He sounded familiar, somehow. “She and her lover – ”
“Mmf?” Dilly said indignantly.
“—broke out of their cells and tried to kill the Princess, right? But what I want to know is, what were they doing in the cells in the first place?”
“They were arrested for drunk and disorderly behavior,” said Maenadan smoothly.
“Shnhmhmf!” Dilly objected.
Creak.Dilly looked down. Was it her imagination, or was the trapdoor slightly more angled than it had been?
“Really? Because I heard that he didn’t get disorderly until after you sent an entire squad of guards to arrest him.”
“And who are you,” asked Maenadan scornfully, “who knows so much about palace affairs?”
Dilly’s friend the sarcastic doctor stepped out of the crowd. “My name is Thiram Melamir,” he said. “And I was army physician to Prince Amrothos’ regiment for five years.” He pointed straight at Taras. “That Prince Amrothos. The one you are about to hang.”

Chaos.
Half the crowd started jeering immediately. The other half began shouting questions, accusations, and support. Interestingly, the crowd around the Muse appeared to be particularly supportive.
Even more interestingly, so did most of the women in the crowd. Dilly did not like to admit, even to herself, that she knew why. It just sounded way too shallow.
But Taras made prison rags and manacles look gooood.Dilly made a mental note to slap herself in the forehead as soon as she had a hand free.
Creak…The noose slipped higher on Dilly’s neck, tightening just beneath her chin. She froze, and the trapdoor stopped moving.
From somewhere nearby, Dilly heard a familiar sound. It was the bright, metallic ssshhinng! of edged steel being swung at an appreciable fraction of lightspeed. That could only mean one thing: Taras was loose.
The crowd was screaming.
The trapdoor was edging slowly open.
The noose was tightening around Dilly’s neck.
And Maenadan…
…was smiling.

Yeah, yeah, you all die of shock. Don't worry, I'm pretty sure this is the last post with an insane Eicys. Maybe--being crazy is sorta fun.

Wlore had no idea what was going on, and deeply resented it. Yes, much of the time she spent with the immies had been utterly confusing, but she had never before found herself is such a state of absolute bewilderment. Glancing over at Brenze she was pleased to note his blank expression. She wasn’t alone.

After Eicys had shrieked, she had slammed shut the lid of the chest and shoved it back at the kneeling man. He had done a full back summersault and scattered the men standing behind him. Of course, his grip on the chest had been lost, and it’s contents spilled onto the floor.

At the moment, all the men were pressing themselves tightly to the walls. Eicys had scrambled atop the small table in front of the mirror, and remained there, precariously perched, joining in the frightful stares of the Haradrim men. They were glaring at a hand-sized, pink jeweled butterfly. Some of the men were crying with terror.

Wlore despised being confused.

“"Alright, someone has until the count of 5 to tell me what’'s going on."” She growled, stepping towards the butterfly. “"If not, then—--"“

“"Wlore, noooOOOO!"” Eicys' squeal swelled to opera worthy pitch. Wlore had no time to dodge Eicys desperate leap off the vanity. The collided with such force the two girls slid across the floor, bashing into the far wall before coming to a stop.

Fighting her way out a tangle of red silk and gold hair, Wlore couldn’t decide if she would rather throttle Eicys or just stab her quickly and be done with it.

"“'I’m warning you, Eicys, I'’ll--"
—“
"“NO!”" The edge of Eicys eye was twitching. Wlore tried to shift out from under her, but it was no use. She glanced around. The priest-looking men seemed to be torn between running for their lives and a horrid fascination for what was going to happen next. It made the lot of them rather twitchy.

“"Hahaahahahehaa!"” Everyone jumped as Eicys burst out in hysterical sobs. “"What more can it do to me? Kill me twice!? What about three times?! REVOLVING DOOR!"” She shoved off of Wlore with enough force to knock the wind out of the Rohirrim girl. "“Rabbit hole. That’s gotta be it."” And with that last bit of nonsense, she pounced on the butterfly.

A collective gasp filled the room. Eicys clutched the jeweled pin to her chest protectively, taking deep shuddering breaths. For a moment, everyone was still. Then, to a man, the troop of robed priests fell on their face, calling out in Southron gobbledeegook. Eicys looked about futilely about the room. Evidently unable to find what she wanted, she scampered into the hallway. The priests leapt to their feet, hastening after, still chanting and hollering. Some of them were leaping in the air—others crawling on all fours. The room was cleared within moments, leaving behind two very confused Rohirrim.

“"Brenz,"” Wlore hissed, “"Do you have any idea what just happened?”" he shook his head with deliberate nonchalance. The two of them stared at each other for a few moments.

"“Do you have any idea how much I want to follow them?”"

The scores of servants left standing bewildered in the halls after being nearly trampled by a hoard of hollering mad men had recovered enough of their motor functions to dive out of the way as two more strange people dashed past.

“"Where is she leading them?”" Wlore hollered.

“I" don’t know--—the echoes are throwing me off!”"

"“Would they have gone up those stairs?”"
“"Isn't that where Adremis' suite is? You’d have to be mad to--"—“ Brenz paused, reflecting on Eicys’ recent actions. “"You’re right. That way."” They pelted towards the stairway, pausing as Eredolyn swept past them.

"“Ere!"” Wlore called out to her as they ran by. "“Did Eicys go this way?”" Eredolyn didn’t even glance up, glaring at the ground and muttering nonsense about “Show him.” As Wlore and Brenze galloped up the stairs three at a time, Wlore spared enough breath to ask, "“Brenz, do you ever feel like –--"“

"“It's only the two of us who never know what's going on? Yes. Yes I do.”"

"“As if we'’re just…...background color."” All further conversation was stinted, however. They had caught up to the mad party. The priests had fallen silent, bowed in a perfect semicircle—they gathered around Eicys as she pounded on Adremis’ door madly with one hand, clutching the butterfly madly in the other. She occasionally kicked it as well. The door that is, not the treasure. Out of her panicked gibberish, Wlore could only catch the occasional demand to let her inside. When there was a complete lack of response, Eicys turned to her new (not my term, I swear) Man-Harem. In the universal language of “"Woman’s demanding finger"” she motioned towards the door in her way

Before Wlore could scream “"Not a good idea!"” the men had miraculously summoned a large, decorative vase. It appeared to be made out of extremely heavy stone, as it took all dozen or so of them to lift.

With a cry of "“AMCIEL!"” they charged. As fate would have it (and she did like having such things happen) it was at this moment Adremis decided to open up. Eicys’' priest quorum barged on ahead, unable to resist their momentum. A fatal sounding crash resounded from within. Wlore and Brenz put on a final burst of speed to stop Eicys from confronting a surely furious Adremis. What they saw in the room, however, pulled them up short. Even a herd of mad eunuchs with a huge stone battering ram couldn’t have done this much damage.

Eicys was delicately stepping over piles of rubble, determinedly heading towards the pirate crouched by the remains of some rather nice curtains.

“Where did you get this?” She demanded, brandishing the jeweled pin like a mess the dog had just made. Adremis glanced up from the middle of the mess, completely unperturbed by the “herd of mad eunuchs” groaning in the corner. His eyes connected with the butterfly. He didn’t even blink.

"“Well, where did you get it, Miss Eicys?"” Eicys mouth, which had moments ago been running at a thousand wpm flapped open and froze.

Snapped shut with a click.

Moved soundlessly.

It was clear her brain had not been prepared for any cognitive reasoning. Her metaphorical train of thought had just struck the mental equivalent of a sleeping mumak and she was having a difficult time jumping tracks before being crushed.

"“Well…I-I was in the...…in-in-in the…BALLroom. Yes, Ballroom. And this...…Sumo crashed in through the window, brandishing a...…fish, because I like ballrooms, and I didn’t have the time to run before he—“..."

"“I know you took it from the ship.”"

“"No you don’t!”"

"“Sit."” Eicys automatically dropped to the floor. Adremis glanced beyond to Wlore and Brenze. As she made eye contact with the captian, Wlore shivered. Adremis expression was perfect stone. But his eyes…...those looked eerily familiar but out of place on the young captain.

“"You. Out.”" Also unable to resist the absolute authority, the Rohirrim marched into the hallway.

"“And again, I feel as though we’ve just been used for someone else’s convenience."” Brenz grumbled. Wlore barely nodded. The memory of eyes like those had come back. She’'d once watched orcs burn a man alive before eating him—things like that weren'’t uncommon in Orthanc. However, they didn't belong on the face of a confidant, successful captain.

Yes, there was too much Wlore didn’t understand. But she was past being confused. Now she was angry.

Last edited by Eicys on Thu Dec 17, 2009 6:20 pm, edited 1 time in total.

Yay! Brilliant, Eicys! I'd mention this post's lsd-trip attributes, but I think I already told you about them. So, on we go! Eicys if you had planned anything to happen before this post just let me know and I'll edit it (but I figure it's been a week so it's free dibs!) Hooray for the PI!

It had been an ugly night, followed by a very ugly morning.
The immies had seen their share of ugly mornings, but usually the days did not call for them to look presentable so they let the ugly mornings slither into ugly afternoons. But one does not have that luxury when one has a meeting with the King of Harad.
The girls were thanking the gods for burqas.

For the purchase of the muse, the King of Harad wanted to meet in the Temple of Flying Gold, as he was busy giving obeisance to Amciel, Goddess of Fortune, for victory in the upcoming war. Though every portrayal of the Goddess was scantily clad, all women visitors, ironically, were forbidden to show even the slightest bit of skin when entering the temple. All females of the pirate party therefore had to wear burquas, which covered them from head to toe and left only two slits for vision.

The burqas proved to be effective cover for the Walking Dead. Wlore and Eredolyn’s faces were pale and weary from lack of sleep. Eicys looked like she was on a nonstop bus to Approaching Madness. Poor Brenz did not have the luxury of a cloth-shield and was forced to look awake and alert. Adremis had it even worse, as he was not only fatigued from last night but had barely missed Approaching Madness because he’d been kicked off the bus.
Only a few strands of coherent thought ran through the little group, and the strands were wholly concerned with last night’s episode.
Wlore was thinking: Did Eicys really rush about with a private man-harem last night, brandishing a stupid butterfly pendant?Eicys was thinking: Did I really tell Adremis a fish-wielding Sumo gave me the butterfly pendant?Adremis was thinking: Did I really tell Eicys she could keep that butterfly pendant?Eredolyn was thinking: Did I really kiss him?

…The King of Harad had wondered if nine o’clock was a little early to meet with pirates who probably drank themselves unconscious the night before. Now as he looked at a mess of men hung-over or standing dead, smattered with a few teetering burquas, he was very, very sure.
Ah, well.

The king rapped his fingers on his gilded chair as the morning’s chill clung to the grand, airy room. “We could schedule this meeting for another time, Captain,” He offered. “I shall be residing here at the temple all day.”
“No, Your Majesty,” Captain Adremis jumped from his stupor. “My crew has been away from the ship long enough. If it pleases you, we will take our payment now and take leave of your lordship before nightfall.”

“So soon?” The King sighed. “I had hoped the little golden bird would grace our fair city a while longer. My offer on her still stands, you know.”
“Yes, you remind me constantly, my lord.” Today Adremis simply did not have patience, not even for a king. “If it is not too hard-pressing, may we discuss the purchase at hand, your majesty?”
“Very well,” The king grumbled. “To business then. I have your Witch of Dance right here.”
With the flick of his royal hand a burqa made of fine gold robes was brought forth. Terpsichore was no doubt fuming at being subjected to the heavy cloth and little eye-slits.

“You were right, Master Peddler,” The King smiled at his prize. “This raven is indeed a great source of entertainment. A little cocky, but highly amusing. She is the dazzling light of any festivity.”
“The price is 450,000 gold din, my lord,” replied Adremis.
“Ever to the point I see,” The King said. “Then let me come to my point, Captain. While the Witch is indeed of great value, I am afraid I no longer wish to purchase her.”

Adremis said nothing.
Nor did Terpsichore.
Nor did the rest of the crew.

“These are busy times in Harad,” The King continued. “And much work is demanded of its King. As much as I would enjoy this little bird, I…uh….am afraid I’ll be far to busy…you understand…”
The king’s words strayed like bewildered sheep under the stare of a savage wolf. Despite being atop of a golden throne in a golden temple, despite being ruler of all he could see with countless men and thralls at his command, the King of Harad felt slightly small and timid under the burning, bowel-smoldering glare of Captain Adremis.

“Beg…your…pardon, my lord?” The words escaped from the man’s teeth in a hiss.

“The Witch is the delight of parties and the talk of feasts,” The King said hurriedly. “But Harad prepares now for war, and the time for parties and feasting is over. This does not mean you shan’t be paid, of course. I give you 100,000 silver din as compensation, along with a new seller: my brother, the Lord of Ab-Gezeel. He is a man of much gaiety and little care. He will most certainly purchase your little raven.”

More silence.

“-And I’ve already sent word to him that he should pay no less than 500,000 gold din. With your skill you could probably talk him out of even more, Master Peddler.”

Adremis gave the large man a long, steady look. The King of Harad matched his glare. The royal guards subconsciously inched toward their master with hands hovered over sword hilts. Then the staring match was suddenly broken, the victor left undeclared. Adremis straightened and broke into a smile.
“Very well, your majesty. It seems of greater profit that we take our wares to your brother. But may I request a smaller portion of my crew be permitted to stay in your charming city one night more? We shall need the rest before making the arduous land journey to Ab-Gezeel.”
The King merely shrugged. “If it suits you. I am afraid however that this is the last time you and I shall meet, Captain Adremis. I must attend to many things before the troops move out.”
“That is understandable.” Adremis said sweetly.
“I trust that the remainder of your stay will be as relaxing and peaceful as it has been thus-“
“MURDERER!”

Everyone in the temple leapt about twelve feet. It was a good thing the temple had open air for walls, because no one liked the thought of such a shrill voice bouncing madly about the room.

The pirate crew looked just in time to see a small dark man race wildly for the throne. In less than a second he was brought down by six guards that came out of nowhere. Although their weight crushed him into the carpet, the little man seemed no less deterred.
“Murderer!” He spat at the king. “Murderer! You killed my brother! Your grageb executioner killed my brother!”

One of the guards holding him drew a sword, but the king raised a jeweled hand.
“Wait,” he said. “The little man amuses me. I will listen.”
The guards hesitated, and then released their pressure (but not their solid grip) on the small fellow. He sucked another lungful of air and continued his rant. “My brother did nothing! He was only minding his shop and your swine grabbed him and dragged him off to the palace! And then you killed him!”
“And who was your brother?”
“Zeb! Zeb the Jeweler! You killed him last night for sport!”
“Ah, the Jeweler,” The King said bemusedly. “He had committed a heinous crime, silly man. He stole the pendant of Amciel.”
“No he didn’t!” The fellow protested. “A girl sold it to him! A young girl with locks of solid gold!”
“Impossible,” The king waved the accusation away. “The only golden-haired girl in A’Malik is the one who deserves the pendant. Why would she sell it off to a lowly merchant?”

While the argument escalated, Adremis turned very, very slowly on the burqas behind him. The immies had no clue what was going on, as everyone was speaking in Haradric, but they had a clue now that they should be very afraid.

“What did you do?” He hissed.
The herd of burqas, as far as it was possible, looked appalled. “What? We didn’t do anything!”
“You sold the butterfly pendant to a jeweler! A jeweler!”
“…Oh, er…we did?”
Adremis dashed aside the rest of the burqas and concentrated all his fury on Eicys. “You and I need to have a long talk about respecting your superior’s property. You hear me Eicys?”
“Um, I’m Eredolyn.”
Adremis blinked and realized he was addressing a robe with two eyes of hazel, not blue.
“Oh.” He said.
“And yes, we do need to have a long talk-”
“Not now.” He whirled about until he found the right burqa. He now stood square in front of the little immie. “Tell me Eicys, is the selling of national treasures to sordid jewelry-stands commonplace where you come from?”
A low ‘grrr’ came from Eicys’ burqa.
“You couldn’t figure it out, oh wise Captain?” Wlore sneered. “A jeweler was killed last night for stealing a sacred relic.”
“Yes, but I didn’t think they were talking about my sacred relic!” He cried. “She tried to sell my butterfly to the most rundown district in A’Malik!”
“My butterfly.” Eicys growled.

Meanwhile, the little man was still ranting at the King. “-A girl with gold hair! Ask anybody!”
“Even if your brother did pay for the butterfly,” The King mused. “Why didn’t he restore it to its rightful place, hmm?”
“-To a stupid merchant, no less!” Adremis continued his own rant.
“Look Adremis, I’m sure Eicys’ theft was only out of-”
“I’m not talking about theft! I’m talking about utter lack of imagination!”
“Because you are a funny man, I will offer compensation to you,” The King said.
“The girl’s golden head on a platter,” The fellow snarled.
“-Can’t you wail on poor Eicys some other time?” Eredolyn rebuked.
“Because she’ll be so much saner this afternoon,” the eyes in Wlore’s Burqa rolled.
“-On that topic,” The King leaned and called to Adremis. “Are you sure you will not sell the gold sparrow to me, Captain? She’d bring great décor to my army.”
“I am not selling one of my crew!” Adremis cried back. “…Although it’s rather tempting now, your majesty.”
“Mine,” Eicys snapped again.
“If you will not give me the girl’s head than I will have nothing!” The little man yelled.
“Adremis if you even think about selling Eicys-”
“You’ll do what, Eredolyn?”
“Ridiculous,” The King gestured to his guards. “Take him to the treasury. Gold is very suitable compensation-”
“I'll see you in the Dra before you can compensate me!”

There was silence. It was not the type of silence that stems from embarrassment or disdain. It was a silence rooted in shock and sheer uncertainty about the world; the type of silence in which one is not sure if it's appropriate to breathe.

Then the King of Harad rose.

In all their encounters with the King, the immies never saw him move much. But now, in reaction to a lewd but seemingly harmless comment, the King of Harad rose.
“Bow,” Adremis murmured to the immies.
“But-”
“Now.”

All heads in the assembly hall lowered at the King’s lifted presence.

“You will do well,” The King said to the little man. “To not mention that place ever again. Now you must scrub white this most holy temple which you have just desecrated, so Amciel will not turn her wrath upon you. And you will serve six months in prison so I will not turn my wrath upon you. And if you even think about speaking against this punishment, consider yourself fortunate that I have yet to send you to that place myself.”

The fellow snapped his jaw shut and slightly whimpered. The guards easily scooped him off the floor.

“Oh, and it was not I who executed your brother,” The King of Harad added. “The Goddess of Fortune delivered judgment upon him herself, that same goddess who shall give us victory over the heathen north and crack the stone-men down to rubble! Now take what’s left of your wits and depart. As for you, Captain,” A guard brought the gold burqa forward at the King’s gesture. “Take your Witch of Dance. You have one more night, and then you must depart also.”
“Understood, my lord,” Adremis answered.

Nothing more was said. Nothing more dared to be said. Without further command the guards dragged the blubbering little fellow away. Adremis bowed graciously to the Ruler of the South and his crew mimicked the action. As soon as the muse was returned to them they turned their heels and were quickly on their way.

The day seemed to have been filled with hefty punishments. And the pirates wanted to leave before it was their turn.

The Temple of Flying Gold winked at the group as they descended down its long, long stairs. As the poor girls stumbled down the steps in their obstructive burqas, Brenz replayed the small fellow’s words in his head. He had picked up a little Haradric during his stay, but there was one word in the man’s threat that he did not understand. It continued to eat at him until they crossed plaza and were at the doors of the Main Commons.

“Good-arm,” Brenz finally leaned in and whispered. “What does ‘Dra’ mean?”
The Quartermaster's eyes went wide and he quickly hushed the boy, as if the mere whisper of the word would warrant a hefty punishment.
“It's a very bad place,” Good-arm said in a guarded tone.
“You mean like Hell, or not that bad?”

Good-arm froze mid-step. He looked at him like he was a first-class idiot.
“Master Brenz, have you ever thought to yourself ‘Things are as bad as they can be’ or ‘It can’t get any worse than this’?”
“Too many times,” He answered.
“And have you ever had an inkling in the back of your mind that things could get very much worse, though you’re not sure how?”
“Yes…”
“That’s the Dra,” Good-arm said. “It’s the torture of all tortures, where the phrase ‘it can’t get any worse’ rings solid true. In some ways Hell isn’t as bad, because it’s only as real as people believe it. But this place…it’s very real, Brenz. It’s real people who run it and it’s real people who are sent there. And they most certainly don’t come back.”
Brenz was mortified. “Who would send anyone to such a place?”
“Folk with ridiculous amounts of money who don't think death is penalty enough for a criminal.” Good-arm had a look as grave as a churchyard. “They say a man killed the King of Harad's daughter several years ago, and they say that's where the King sent him.”
“So he died in that horrible place?”
“Oh, the people running that place don’t kill you. They’re paid to keep you alive for as long as possible.”
“All right, all right,” Brenz wanted desperately to close the book on the conversation and put it on a high, neglected shelf. “I understand. I promise I won't ever say the word Dra again-”
“Brenz!”
“I'm sorry!”

“The sooner we get outta here the better,” Dafteye muttered behind them as they crossed the threshold. “I don’t like being in places where that place is mentioned. Might give people ideas, you know? Don’t see why we can’t just leave now.”
“We do not leave until the job is done, Master Dafteye,” Came Adremis’ flat answer from up ahead.
“No disrespect intended, sir,” Good-arm spoke as Dafteye muttered his own pardons. “But all the way to Ab-Gezeel on foot? Everyone knows it’d be a much faster trip on the Greed, sir.”
Here Adremis turned. “Who said anything about going to Ab-Gezeel, Quartermaster?”
Good-arm stopped. “…Why, you did, sir. Remember back there, with the king-?”
“What I told the king is irrelevant. The job we took is not the job we will do.”

Now everyone was staring at him in bafflement. “…So what’s tomorrow’s job then, sir?” Rig ventured.
“Tonight’s job,” Adremis corrected the lad. “Will be to rescue our Witch of Dance.”

They wanted to state the obvious, they really did, but it was just too obvious to be stated.
“Um…she’s right here?” a man finally ventured.
Adremis grabbed the unresisting gold burqa and dragged it forward. “Observe,” he said.
The pirates crowded about in the Main Commons, which was now completely empty. With the flair of a magician’s hand Adremis threw back the golden cloth and its fine tassels to reveal-

A woman, obviously. A woman with dark, Terpsichore-like eyes and Terpsichore-black hair.
-But it was not Terpsichore.

Pirates and immies alike stared at her. Everyone was lost for words, except for one pirate who suddenly found himself with an ample supply.
“Who the *$%@!*#$ is that?”

The pirates stood gaping as their ticket to 500,000 gold din suddenly became a nameless face, all done with the simple withdrawal of a burqa.
“In answer to your most colorful question, Rig,” Adremis said. “It is a woman.”
“But she’s not the muse!” Wlore blurted as the girls threw off their own burqas for better inspection.
“Well spotted,” The captain replied. “Isn’t it a fascinating little trick?”
One of the less clever pirates scratched his head asked “…So how’d you do it?”
The Quartermaster jumped to explain before the Captain could be charged with strangling one of his crew. “The Captain didn’t do this, you fool. Someone’s duped us.”

The girl who stood before them bore semblance of Terpsichore, but they couldn’t have been farther apart. Her cowardly eyes stuck to the ground and her whole body winced in fear every time the pirates spoke.
Adremis now came forward and took her gently by the arm. Everyone watched as he asked her a question in Haradric. The quivering girl, after a few false starts, answered back in a murmur.
“She says she’s one of the King’s porters,” Adremis translated. “A slave.”
He asked her another question in soft, reassuring tones. It utterly irked the immies to see their captain act as though comfort and sympathy was his second nature.
The girl, a bit sturdier now, answered him back.
“The King told her to put on the burqa and come with us,” Adremis summed up. “He said if she dared speak or reveal herself, she’d be killed.”
“As if such threats matter,” Good-arm grumbled to Adremis. “You figured it out as soon as the King made the handoff.”
“Who do you think I am, Quartermaster?” Adremis raised a brow at him. “I figured it out before he made the handoff.”

Wlore stared. “You mean you knew it was a trick?”
“The moment the King presented it.”
“And you didn’t call him on it….why?” Eredolyn asked.
Adremis didn’t bother restraining an eye-roll. “Because I was no position to ‘call him on it.’ If I accused the king of swindling he would call me a liar. If I threw off the girl’s burqa as proof he would charge me for desecrating the temple. And now that I’m out of the king’s presence I cannot press charges until I can have an audience with him again, which would not be for a very long time. It’s a brilliant scheme, even for him. Now he owns the Witch of Dance,” Here Adremis looked at their little chest of silver in disgust. “-and only paid 5% of the original price.”

All the pirates turned silent as the words released their noxious effect; they had spent a fortune traveling hundreds of miles by land and sea, only to be tricked at the last moment by a fat king who did not particularly feel like parting with his gold din.
Now the pirates were broke, void of prospects, and their ship was very far away.
“…So what now?” Brenz voiced the thoughts of all.
“As I said,” Adremis answered. “Tonight we shall snatch back our Witch of Dance from the King.”

This declaration did not lighten the mood. The crew could only stare at its captain helplessly.
“There’s a million palace guards,” A pirate pointed out.
“And a million halls and doors.”
“And he’s got the witch locked up good and tight,” said another.
“And he wants us gone.”
“Firstly,” Adremis the Teacher explained to his Kindergarten Class. “The employ of a million guards is impossible. Secondly, the King will be hiding the witch behind only one door, and it will be the one he himself occupies. Thirdly, the King already granted my request to stay one more night in A’Malik, or did all of that wholly escape you?”
“Even so, sir,” Good-arm admonished. “You’ll be trying to steal from the King of Harad. It’s suicidal.”
“That is why the majority of us are leaving right now, so the ship will be prepared. This task requires small numbers anyway-”
“Did you not hear the Quartermaster, sir?” One pirate burst into hysterics. “You’re trying to steal from the King of Harad and it’s suicidal!”

The fellow’s sudden outburst echoed through the Main Commons. Everyone became silent as new-fallen snow. All focus then turned to the Captain, who was now eyeing his crewman most contemptuously.
“It’s even more suicidal to steal from me.” Adremis whispered. “I will not go down in history as the pirate who was swindled by a fat old man. Nor will any of my crew. After tonight all of Middle Earth will think twice before trying to dupe the Black Greed. You, and any man here who can barely retain his stomach, will pack up and follow the Quartermaster back to the ship this instant. The rest will meet in my… in the Bosun’s quarters in one hour. Then I will discuss the plan.”

There was no need to tell the group to disperse; they wanted to do that ever since the needle Adremis’ eyes began teetering dangerously between Smoldering Glare and Hell Hath No Fury. The pirates got busy with either packing gear or returning to rooms or internally debating whether staying or leaving the Captain would be more detrimental to one’s health.

Good-arm, for his part, read through Adremis’ indirect order and went to prepare for the long journey back to the Greed. He didn’t like the idea of leaving the Captain, he didn’t like the whole idea of laying siege to the King of Harad either, but orders were orders and Adremis would find a way out of this suicidal episode.
He always did.

As Good-arm churned through these thoughts, he failed to notice Eredolyn coming up behind him, rushing to keep up.

“Hey, um,” Eredolyn remembered what Adremis had called him the day before and looked at the Quartermaster’s back questioningly. “Hey…Ithilos?”

Good-arm stopped.

He just stood there for a second, and then slowly turned in a way that made Eredolyn wince. He wore a face of granite for a solid moment, but then fixed on a pleasant smile. “…Good-arm will do just fine, Miss Eredolyn.”
The immie decided it would not help her cause if she pressed the matter, especially when he was addressing her in the same steely way as Adremis. “Right. Good-arm. Sorry. Could you tell me if I’m good for a favor right now?”
“Of course,” The prior exchange forgotten, Good-arm put his only arm on her shoulder. “You’ll always be good for a favor. What can I do for you?”
“I have a question for you, that’s all,” She gave a shrug at the meagerness of her request. “But I’d like an honest yes or no.”
“Sure,” He said.
“Just yes or no, please. No arguments or reprimanding. I give one question and you give one answer. Agreed?”
“Er…” He couldn’t help but feel highly suspicious.
Now Eredolyn stood square in front of him; a woman on a mission. Good-arm didn’t know much about women, or else he would have realized that a woman on a mission was something definitely to be avoided.
He was about to realize that very soon.
“Good-arm,” Eredolyn said. “Am I good for a favor or not?”
“You are,” He conceded.
“I have a question and all I want to hear from you is a yes or a no. Is that too much to ask?”
“…No,” He grumbled.
“Promise you’ll do that for me?”
“Promise.” Good-arm had to push back the engrained distrust of Quartermasters everywhere, which was very hard to do.

“Good-arm,” Eredolyn began. “Did Eliace kill Adremis’ father?”

What she got was a stare so pale and blank that it could have been sold as parchment. Good-arm could only look at the little immie in total, utter disbelief.
Eredolyn steadily looked right back at him, as if to subliminally answer every doubt running madly about his mind with a Yes, I did just ask you that.When the words of her question had finished ringing through his skull, the Quartermaster groaned. “Blackbelt-”
“Don’t.”
“You have no idea what you’re-”
“Yes or no only. You promised.”
“Seriously, you-”
“I thought you were a man of your word, Good-arm! Did he kill his father yes or no?”
Good-arm tried opening and closing his mouth repeatedly, but could will no proper refute to come out. He realized he could do nothing but swallow his own defeat. He lowered his eyes to the ground, utterly deflated and beaten, and said.
“…Yes.”

The word registered in the cog-works of Eredolyn’s brain, hurling about a hundred wheels into motion. She delivered a “Thank you,” spun around, and sped with purpose to the corridor.
“Eredolyn,” He called after her.
She couldn’t help but stop. That was two times he had ever called her by her real name and all in the space of a minute.
“Yes?” She asked in the tone of a woman with very pressed time.
Good-arm, his eyes full of pleading, simply said “Don’t do anything stupid.”

Eredolyn actually paused to consider this before politely nodding and continuing down the hall.
She could almost hear the Tuima in her head say Poor Good-arm, he has yet to realize that ‘stupid’ and ‘Eredolyn’ are completely synonymous.There were times when she really didn’t miss that elf.

The problem was she knew exactly what she was doing. She also knew exactly what it would cost: any chance she could have had with Adremis…any hope at all….it would be gone. If she carried her plan out, if everything went right, Adremis would never go near her again (presuming, of course, he decided to let her live). She had carefully weighed this out the night before, and decided to go through with it anyway. She had to.
Because she just couldn’t stand the pain.
Adremis contained so much grief it was a miracle to Man he hadn’t fallen apart yet. And there was no doubt he would fall apart soon, if this wasn’t resolved. His mind, his heart, everything about him was in complete turmoil over his father’s death. Eredolyn couldn’t stand seeing him this way. She had to do something. Even if it meant Adremis would never ever love her, or even like her, she had to do it. Because….

Because…

Because she loved him.

There, I said it. She told her mind, happy to have (in a sense) let it out.
Adding extra length to her stride, she burned through the ivory corridor, letter in hand.

“Gosh,” said Kad, raising his voice to be heard over the pursuing orcs and the thrumming pulse of his panic. “This seems familiar.”
Cebu actually laughed. Kad’s strained grin was a white smudge in the blackness.
…Which was not, actually, all that black.
“The walls are glowing!”
It was true. A faint, sickly green light illuminated just enough of the tunnel to prevent the Immies from running face-first into a wall – although there were more than a few bruised shoulders and barked shins as they hurtled around corners and up staircases.
“Nostoc!” Tuima cried.
“Come again?” panted Kad, trying to ignore the clatter of an arrow against the nearby wall.
“They’re mushrooms – the Halflings call them Fallen Stars – they’re good for liver ailments but if you take too many they can cause respiratory failure – ”
“Spare us!” Erestor growled at her.
Several more corridors and staircases were negotiated. The orcs stayed close behind, screeching and clattering and sending the occasional arrow zinging past the Immies’ faces.
“Next time I visit Moria,” said Erestor, “I shall be sure to bring a compass. And a map. And a few thousand heavily-armed warriors.”
“Haven’t we been through this room before?” shouted Kad, jarring his already bruised shoulder against a pillar.
“Yes, as a matter of fact. Please keep silent unless you can contribute something helpful!”
“You mean you’re lost?”
“I’ve been lost since we left the Bridge!” cried Erestor. “Now I simply have the added benefit of near-total darkness and someone shouting in my ear!” They scrambled around a series of short, squat pillars, groping and cursing in the shadows.
“Hey!” shouted Cebu.
“I told you we should have gone up that last staircase!” Tuima howled at Erestor.
“The keystone was cracked right through! We’d have brought the whole thing down on top of us!”
“At least it would have been quicker than starving to death!” Tuima cried as they ground to a halt at a junction of three corridors.
“Hey!” Cebu called again, distantly.
“Don’t be so negative,” snarled Erestor, casting about frantically and picking a direction seemingly at random. “There’s still a good chance the orcs will catch us instead.”
There was another faint cry from Cebu.
“I’ll take starving over that particular brand of optimism, thank you!” Tuima shouted as the Immies sprinted down another staircase.
Kad jerked to a stop. “Did someone just call my – HEY! Where’s Cebu?!”
Silence slammed over the Immies like a falling mountain.
“Oh, no…”
And then, far-off and tiny but boiling mad, another shout: “Listen to me!”“Cebu!”
Hard on Kad’s heels, Erestor ground out, “By the Courts of Mandos – Please tell me she isn’t trying to reason with a gang of orcs.”
“This is Cebu we’re talking about!” Kad screamed at him.
They looked at each other. Suddenly, all three found an extra burst of speed.
“I can’t hear the orcs,” panted Tuima.
“I can,” said Erestor. “They’re over to our right.”
“Then who,” said Tuima, as they pelted down the left-hand corridor towards Cebu’s voice, “is Cebu yelling at?”
“Kad Caerafon!” screamed the redhead.
Kad managed a gulp in mid-sprint. “Um. I think that would be me.”

“Apparently you’re in trouble,” Tuima commented dryly.
A goblin leapt out of nowhere, teeth bared, and launched itself at Kad’s throat. He didn’t even have time to draw his sword.
Instead, he smashed the ugly thing straight in the teeth with the same right hook he’d used on Erestor. It performed an ungainly backflip and smacked into the wall. Kad jerked his sword free of its sheath and skewered the orc with no further ado.
“Naw,” he panted, resuming his sprint toward Cebu’s shouts. “You think?”

As Eredolyn paced across the small storage room, she vaguely wondered how shortly Taras would have gone insane if he had worn jingly shoes during his incarceration. Truth be told, the incessant jingle, jingle, did prove a satisfying distraction from contemplation of certain embarrassing actions earlier that afternoon.
There was no other way around it, Eredolyn kept telling herself. Really, how else could a girl get a total stranger to meet her at a particular place in the small hours of the night? And seriously, it wasn’t her fault the Royal Brothel had a call-on-customer basis, it wasn’t her fault they left their seals and stationary in such an accessible location, and it wasn’t her fault that the content had been pre-printed with easy fill-in-the-blanks for time and place, and it most certainly wasn’t her fault that the man had such an ostentatious door with such a wide gap at the bottom to slip the letter through.
So really, none of it was her fault.
Yeah.

Regardless, Eredolyn still shuttered at the…manner in which she was luring him. But her method of contacting the fellow didn’t bother her half as much as the next step of her Plan.
Again Eredolyn gingerly fingered the edge of her polished sword. Actually, it was more like a short blade. Or a cooking skewer. Actually, it probably was a cooking skewer, as she had nicked it from the kitchens. But what was even less potent than the skewer’s capability as a weapon was the menace of the girl holding it.
Could she really threaten anyone? More importantly, could anyone actually feel threatened by her? Eredolyn was not exactly the go-through-with-it type when it came to things like man-slaughter. She could only hope he was the sort that was very easily intimidated.

And where was he? Eredolyn glanced at the sputtering lantern. How late was it? How much time did she have left? Timing was another crucial and somewhat faulty factor in her Plan. The small team of pirates that remained in A’Malik planned to rescue the muse just before dawn and, despite the crew’s protests and the Captain’s great annoyance, the immies had managed to tack themselves onto Adremis’ little squad. Dawn was just a few short hours away now, and if Eredolyn’s own scheme compromised Adremis’ mission in any way…well, she didn’t want to muse on the severity of the consequences.
-She was sure her Plan would produce enough severe consequences as it was.

Eredolyn considered slipping out to find a decent clock when the door handle began to jiggle, then turn. She leapt five feet at the sound and then, heart in throat, she hid the skewer behind her back and she waited. It seemed to take years before the door slowly swung open.
A handsome, almost delicate man entered the room, still wearing the robes his day’s work required. He paused at the threshold, studying the girl that stood before him with some scrutiny. And though Eredolyn had only seen him once, she knew from the churning of her stomach that it was him.
It was Eliace.
She couldn’t believe it. He came. He actually came. Her plan was working. Not that the next part of it would, but so far it was working.
Though it sent a shutter down her spine, Eredolyn braved a little smile. And Eliace, much to the turning of her already poor stomach, returned a long, slender grin that reminded her of an eel. She just had to keep it up a few seconds longer.
He slowly stepped into the storage room, holding aloft the scarlet-bordered invitation.
“When I received this, I had no idea its bearer would be so young.”
She remained motionless. Retaining his eel-like smile, he took a few steps closer.
“Not that it’s a problem, of course.”
Jaw set, she waited. He came closer.
Just a few seconds more...
There! His hand left the door and now it slowly clicked shut. She whipped out the skewer in one flourished movement and turned her smile into the most menacing, threatening glare that could be contrived in the History of Menacing and Threats.

“On. Your. Knees,” She ordered.

Eliace stared blankly at the sharp end of the skewer pointed at his throat. There passed a few moments in which it was not certain just what he would do. The ages spent holding aloft her skewer stretched for so long that she was sure her empty threat and her marvelous Plan had completely folded under her.
And then, under her glare and solid grip of her skewer, Eliace finally shrugged and shifted in his rich robe onto his knees.
Eredolyn blinked as her personal nemesis knelt before her. She couldn’t believe it. It worked? It worked! Like a missile from its trebuchet, her mind was hurled a thousand miles a second.
“Hold out your wrists,” she ordered.
Eliace held out his long, white wrists in compliance. Eredolyn grabbed a short coil of rope which she had laid aside in the sad hope that she would actually get so far. Now she grabbed it and set to work binding her captive’s hands. She thought she couldn’t properly threaten anyone, but now she felt like a fortress of solid steel that could not be denied or reasoned with.
When the knot was good and tight against his wrists, her next Command was “Turn around and stay on your knees.”
Her captive didn’t dare refuse her. His robes rustled across the stone floor until he faced the doorway.
“Now what?” He asked.
“Now we wait.”

The lantern sputtered again. Several moments passed in which Eredolyn and the kneeling Eliace waited in awkward silence.

“…For what, exactly?” He asked.
“Just shut up and wait.”
The Royal Treasurer, who did not enjoy time wasted, scrunched his face in annoyance. “But this isn’t it, surely?”
“It is what I say it is. You’re my prisoner.”
There was a pause. Then a sigh wafted over his shoulder that reminded Eredolyn eerily of Adremis. “This is without doubt the most foolish game ever.”
“Oh?” She scoffed. “So you think this is a game, do you?”
“Isn’t it?” Eliace turned his head. “Isn’t this where you…. Well you know, weren’t you going…to…?”

Eredolyn’s face dropped. There were enough “…” in that sentence to paint a picture in her mind, and it was the sort that belonged in a brown paper bag.
“No!” She cried in a pitch to break glass. “Ugh, no! You disgusting- -why’d you even think that?”
He simply shrugged. “You did give me the Calling Card.”
“Because it was a trick, you moron!”
“And you tied my hands and played some farce with a skewer.”
“Because I’m holding you hostage, you pig!”
“And we are in a Haradric storage room.”
“Because-” If it were possible, Eredolyn’s face dropped even further. “Wait, what is that supposed to mean?”
“Well, in Harad they-”
“Shut up! I don’t want to know!” Suddenly her fortress of solid steel was being turned upside down and shaken for loose change. “Just face the door and keep quiet! And keep in mind that I officially have no qualms with beating you senseless now.”
“Oh? And why is that?”
“Because you’re nothing but a trashy womanizer!”
“Ah,” Though she couldn’t see his face, Eredolyn just knew the eel-smile was back. “A most accurate consensus, my dear.”
She didn’t bother restraining her rage. “Oh I could go on, Eliace! I know you lie about yourself!”
“Every day, morning ‘til night.”
“And you swindle people on a daily basis!”
“How do you think I became Treasurer?”
“And you drink like it’s going out of style!”
“Surely the smell isn’t that bad-”
“And you murder in cold blood!”

There was nothing. No rebuke, no witty retort. Only silence. Eredolyn’s accusation hung in the air like a drawn corpse, dangling in the wind. In fact the whole storage room felt it had been twisted into the scaffolding of some dark gallows.
“…Where did you hear that?” Eliace said.

Eredolyn was suddenly feeling very grateful that Eliace’s hands were bound and she was holding the skewer. But with the new coldness that seized the room she wondered just how long she could make this advantage last.
Her fears were abated and her heart nearly burst with relief when the final part of her Plan suddenly came into play: there was a knock on the door.
She and Eliace froze and stared at the door in silence as the light rapping continued.
When the door remained unanswered, the handle turned of its own accord and the inquirer stepped over the threshold. His thorough exasperation preceded him to such a degree that Eredolyn could tell at once, despite the poor light, that this was indeed Captain Adremis.
“Eredolyn?” He demanded. “Dafteye gave me your absurd message. What on earth could be so important that it cannot wait til-”
Then he saw Eliace.
And it seemed the whole world stopped.

This wasn’t a mistake. It may sound like a mistake, and right now as Adremis and Eliace stared at one another it may look like nothing but a mistake, but it didn’t feel like a mistake.
Not to her, anyway.
The world, however, still refused to turn. Eliace could only blink stupidly and Adremis was a pillar of stone. It was only when the skewer nearly slipped from Eredolyn’s sweaty grip that they were even aware of a third party in the room…and the exact role she had played in this gross misfortune.
Adremis was the first to turn his glazed stare onto Eredolyn and he was the first to speak.
“…What are you doing?”
“I’m sorry.”
“What are you doing?”
“I’m fixing it,” She said calmly. She wasn’t afraid, not anymore. “I’m tired, Adremis. I’m tired of watching you struggle with ghosts I don’t understand. The only way for you to beat this thing is to face it head on. Your father is dead and you miss him terribly, believe me I understand. I would give anything to see my parents again too. But you’ve got to stop piling his death on your head. You did all you could that night and you need to accept that someone else is to blame for what happened. …And you need to accept his apology.”
She now turned to Eliace and gave him a rough prod. “Tell him. Tell him you killed his father and that you’re sorry.”

Her heart pounded in her ears, but she did it. Her Plan had worked. Whatever happened next, whatever happened between her and him, at least the plan had-
Suddenly a crude noise sent Eredolyn’s deliriously high thoughts rushing to the ground: Eliace, despite being bound and under the point of a skewer, broke into loud, uproarious laughter.
“Are you mad, woman?” He spat. “You can make me apologize to whomever you wish, but I will not apologize to him!”
Eredolyn blinked, then she clenched her teeth so hard they nearly cracked. “You’re a murderer, Eliace. You don’t get to pick and choose.”
“…Ah, I see,” Eliace calmed down under his sudden realization. “So, you think because I killed someone that I am a murderer? Will you be using your skewer against kings’ executioners and hangmen next?”
Eredolyn had just about enough. “That’s an entirely different matter and you know it!”
“How?”
“What?”
“My dear girl,” Eliace said evenly. “Did ever occur to you that I let my axe fall that night because I was simply following orders?”

Eredolyn heard him…but she was not sure she had heard him. She felt her Plan slowly fraying at the edges. “But…” She began. “Wait…are you saying you didn’t raise the mutiny?”
“No,” Eliace snorted. “I was hardly so devious.”
Now things were swiftly unraveling. “…But…so…you killed the captain because…?”
“-Because I was a drunk, lowly deckhand and someone told me to do it.”
“Who?”
Eliace smiled and jerked his head. “Why don’t you ask him?”

Eredolyn looked up at Adremis.
She was going to ask him, she was really going to. But the words stuck in her throat when her eyes came on a site they had never before seen: Adremis' head bowed, unable to meet her gaze.
“Adremis?” Her voice managed to will out. “…Adremis?”
He didn’t look at her.

No…

“This is good,” Eliace chuckled. “Are you going to tell her the story, boy? Or should I?”
“He already told me!” Eredolyn snapped at Eliace like a fiery whip. “He and his father were at the helm together! They were trying to sail the ship through a storm and the mutineers took them by surprise!”
The Treasurer blinked. “…Oh that’s priceless. What is this pigs’ swill you’ve been swallowing?”
“They were completely surrounded! Adremis and his father drew out their swords and fought back to back!”
“Ha, it was more front to front, as I recall.”
“He beat them back as long as he could…as hard as he could…but it just wasn’t enough.”
Eliace laughed and laughed. “What have you done to her, Adremis? You have the poor girl thinking you’re some sort of hero!”
“It’s true!” Eredolyn shouted over the laughter both in the room and in her head. “Tell him, Adremis! Tell him it’s the truth!”
Please, Adremis, her mind begged. Please say something. Please stop all this. Please, please just look at me!
But Adremis was like a fifth wall in the little room. His arms were loose and his eyes were fixed to the floor. Eredolyn waited, clinging to a shred of hope that he could wipe this away like a bad dream, but he did not move. Nor would he speak.

“I’ll tell you the truth,” Eliace coolly broke the insufferable silence. “Though it’s not as pretty or heroic as the story you were fed. His father was always in control and Adremis couldn’t stand it. So he spent months reversing the favor of those loyal to the captain and when the time was most opportune, when his father was most distracted, he carried out the quickest and most thorough mutiny Arda had ever seen. He ordered the few that were still loyal, including old Ithilos if I recall, to be bound to the mizzenmast. Then he ordered me to cut his father’s head. Adremis was the man in charge, he was the one with the big plans, and so I carried out his command. The boy didn’t really care his father was beheaded, so long as he had the control. I think he overestimated the stupidity of his mates, however, because no sooner had he overthrown his father when they overthrew him. The bigger ones beat him to a pulp and tied him to the mast as well. That was when the ship hit the rocks and everything broke to pieces. That all happened, oh, four or five years ago, I think.
“And now…” Eliace turned on the young man. “Now I labor every day as a treasurer, working my way up a shady but legal ladder. And you? You’re a pirate, Adremis. And the captain of a notorious ship, no less. And you spend your days swindling kings and wooing ladies with rosy stories about fighting off the Devil with your old man. How touching. Our lives have taken such different roads, but they suit us well, don’t they boy? And now, if you please,” Eliace jerked his head in Eredolyn’s direction. “I would appreciate it if you could call off this little fish, as she took your bait with a tad too much enthusiasm.”

Eredolyn continued staring at Adremis, and Adremis continued staring at the floor. She absorbed the story every inch, but was still waiting for him to say something, anything to refute it. With every moment he didn’t, the fear solidified more and more until it had become a led weight in her chest.
It wasn’t true. He just had to tell her it wasn’t true and she’d believe it in an instant. Because he was the man she thought he was, he was the man she knew he was.
“Adremis,” She said. “Please…please tell me...”
Finally, after what seemed decades, Adremis lifted his eyes and set them on the girl whose faith in him was dangling by the last of her fingers.
“I thought I made it clear, Eredolyn,” He answered. “There are no such things as heroes.”

Her fingers slipped, and she was free-falling. She couldn’t stop the tears as they practically poured from her eyes and dripped down her face. She dropped the skewer with a clang and nearly sent the door flying off its hinges as she burst from the room. She ran straight into the welling darkness of the corridors, away from Eliace, away from Adremis, away from the world she thought was her greatest adventure but was suddenly morphed into a hideous, cruel joke. And no matter how fast she ran, it laughed at her heels all the way, following her down into the darkness.

When Eredolyn was gone and her sobbing could no longer be heard in the echoes of the corridor, the young man’s eyes then turned to Eliace. The wall that was Captain Adremis moved in on the bound Treasurer and jerked him up by his collar.
“If I ever see you again,” He muttered. “You had better be dead.”
“If that girl sees you again,” Eliace retorted. “You will be dead far sooner than I. You shouldn’t have lied to her, Adremis.”
Adremis dropped him on the stone floor like a rotted fish. “She caught me off-guard," he said by way of explanation. "I didn’t think there was someone in Middle Earth stupid enough to believe in me.”
Eliace looked up at the captain and gave a wide grin. “My dear boy,” He replied. “Are you saying there’s something in you to believe in?”

Adremis stared at him, then turned on his heel and left the room like a departing storm, slamming the door shut on the King’s bound Treasurer as he did so.

Right. So, this one time, I have a post all written out, but it REALLY doesn't fit in the plot right now. More perfect for some Eicys contemplation out in the desert. Ere, if you send me an outline for the escape I could probably get some plot bashed out. Gosh, maybe I'll write some Dann stuff this week even! But until then--a collection of mushy songs from our boys to us.

The Immies reached Cebu at the same time the orcs did.
“No, really!” Cebu was saying to the foremost goblins. “We’re really sorry to intrude and everything, but really, we really were just leaving…”
“Indeed,” said Erestor, materializing out of the darkness in a swirl of black cloak. The effect was pure comic book illustration: Cebu would not have been surprised to see the word “Poof!” illuminated in the air above his shoulder. He seized Cebu around the shoulders and threw her bodily behind the nearest pillar. “I see you have already taken your leave. Of your senses. Stay there!”
“But – ”
“Stay there!” the Elf snarled.
Cebu shrank. “But – ”
And then Tuima was there, black blood dripping from what Cebu recognized as the elleth’s sewing shears, and ranting: “By every star in the firmament, Cebu, wasn’t it enough to wander off on your own once? What were you thinking? No, don’t answer that – stay down!” The elleth kicked an orc in the stomach hard enough to send it crashing into the nearest wall, and whirled away to deal with another.
“But – ”
“Cebu!” cried Kad, grabbing her arms and looking ready to dissolve on the spot with relief. “Sweet Saint Davy, Rhudd, are you trying to give me a heart attack? Look out!” He jerked her aside as an orc came at them with a strange axe-like weapon she hadn’t ever seen before, and brought his sword up into a defensive posture. “Stay behind me, ie?”“But – ”
Clang.“Oh, for the love of Pete!” shrieked Cebu, as her three friends spun around her in a protective, steel-edged whirlwind. “I’m not that helpless! Hey! Hey, listen to me!
“I found the exit!”

FRIENDS! FRIENDS FRIENDS FRIENDS! ACK! How I MISSED ALL OF YOU! I am SO HAPPY TO BE HOME AT LNG LAST! I Glomp all of you simultaniously! How do I love thee? Let me count the ways! I can't believe that I am really here! I give you a Post...after having NO interaction with Muse Quest for the past 18 months. Please be kind. No judging. It's going to take me a little while to get back up to where I left off. LET'S GET THIS PARTY STARTED!!!!!!

You would think that an announcement like that would have generated a little more excitement, but the current situation with the orcs put somewhat of a damper on the event. It is ever so difficult to perform a Dance of Accomplishment when one is being pursued by blood-thirsty monsters intent on ripping one to shreds. But predictably her three comrades extinguished the threat soon enough. Cebu couldn’t help but look innocently at them when all three stood before her, dripping with the aftermath of their latest run in, and looked at her with suspicious eyes.
“The exit?”
She nodded happily. “Its-”
The elves looked hungrily in the direction she pointed. And there it was: a large cavernous opening illuminated by bright moonlight. “Stars. Sweet Ellbereth. Stars” whispered Tuima reverently. Each Immie looked briefly at the other, and commenced in a mad scramble for the exit. Against all odds there were no more orc attacks, no more vanishing Immies, no more ANYTHING. At long last the Moria Immies were no longer Moria Immies.
As each one strode into the moonlight each gave a deep sigh of primeval relief and disbelief. Tuima looked hungrily at the sky, her eyes opened unnaturally wide, drinking in the heavens, Erestor doing the same thing. Cebu had collapsed onto the ground and was hugging the grassy field surrounding the entrance. Kad did what they all wished to do and threw back his head and shouted at the top of his lungs “YEAH! YEAH! TAKE THAT MORIA!” He then grabbed Cebu up from the grass and the two of them started jumping up and down, dancing in the moonlight, breathing in the crisp air. The two mortals looked back at the elves. Each immortal stood, drinking in the outdoor, like they were cell phones plugged into an electrical outlet. Cebu had the dangerous urge to go over and initiate a group hug, but a sense of self-preservation stopped her. Instead she looked up into the eyes of her best friend and protector. “We’re free!” she whispered. He looked down at her, both of their emotions welling inside them. They were free from the shrinking walls, from the constant threat of death, and from the pressing blackness that tried to take their sanity. They had actually made it out alive, against all odds. Both of them smiled and in unity leaned in for their first kiss, and finest kiss.

Hello everyone!
So it’s been a long time. Practically two years!!! Holy cow I can’t believe I was gone that long. I’ve been home for a while now but I just haven’t had anything to post. While I was gone I learned Mandarin Chinese and so my brain is kind of a jumble of Mandarin and English and I’m afraid that my writing will be horrible because my English is no longer as good as it once was (which is what you get when you stop speaking English for a good year or more). Being back in America is great. I learned to appreciate a lot of things. I love my life. And I’m finally posting. Again, apologies for the fact that it won’t be amazing. Give me some time to work up to that. The first part of this post is by Tuima and the rest is mine.

Taras’ guards reacted to the initial outcry like the well-trained soldiers that they were. That is to say, the grouped instinctively into an outward-facing ring and raised their shields. What they did not do was stop to think about the implications of this move: namely, the fact that every one of them now had his back to Taras.
With a normal prisoner, this may not have been problematic. With Taras, it transcended “problematic” and arrived at a point that cannot rightly be called “disastrous” when the word “apocalyptical” is jumping up and down, begging to be used.
Taras bent his back and his knees, clenched his teeth, and sprang. With a kind of corkscrew jerk, he doubled his legs up and back, leaping over his own bound hands like a child with a jump rope. He ripped his gag free, stepped forward, and looped the chain of his manacles over the head of the nearest guard, jerking him backwards so fast that the man’s companions didn’t even notice he had disappeared.
“Now,” said Taras in the man’s ear, barely audible over the rioting crowd. “There are two ways this could go. You could unlock these manacles quietly. That’s the easy way.” The chain tightened against the guard’s neck. “Do you want to know the hard way?”
The guard shook his head as much as he dared with iron links digging into his throat.
“Very wise,” said Taras. “Key, please.”
The man reached for his belt.
“No,” said Taras, in a voice that could almost be mistaken as friendly. “That’s your sword.”
“If I shout – ” the guard began, and choked as Taras pulled him a little closer.
“I’ve worn manacles for so long,” said the voice in his ear, “that the scars on my wrists run practically to the bone. That means that when I snap your neck, I won’t feel a thing.”
The man’s hair stood on end. He scrabbled desperately for the ring of keys at his side. He fumbled them free, selected the appropriate key, and jabbed it at the manacle just behind his ear.
“A little left,” said Taras, with a calm he did not feel. He’d discovered, in the time since his escape, that people found him more unnerving when he was obviously furious and not showing it – and Taras needed to be unnerving right now, even if it meant exaggerated threats to a guard who was just doing his duty.
Said threats had apparently been very unnerving indeed. The key scraped over the iron, found the keyhole, and plunged inside.
“Turn,” said Taras. The man’s hand shook as he obeyed.
Click.
“Many thanks,” said Taras as his right manacle fell open. Then he looped the chain around his left fist and punched the guard so hard that he was unconscious before he’d even started to fall.
Taras relieved the man of his weapon, stepped over the prone body, and headed for Maenadan.
…That last sentence does not really work. But the English language isn’t equipped to describe a human being moving in a fashion usually reserved for avenging gods or continent-crushing tidal waves.

Dilly’s feet tried to find better purchase on the slanted trapdoor, one foot holding her weight while the other desperately sought for level ground. The trapdoor fell open another few inches and Dilly very nearly fell with it. The noose tightened to an aggravating degree, tilting her head back and exposing her throat. She started coughing and trying to pull air through her pinched airway. She could still feel the compulsion to leave the lever to the trapdoor alone, but that wasn’t helping her any at the moment.
Dilly could hear people shouting and arguing all around her but they could have been on another planet for all that she understood. Her brain started noticing little things like the deep blue of the sky, the burn of the ropes on her wrists, and the smell of the many bodies in the courtyard.
Well Dilly thought this is exciting.

Maenadan watched Taras as he drew nearer. Taras’ eyes never left Maenadan’s face as he stalked through the people in his way, guard and commoner alike. Maenadan was not surprised to see that even though Taras was most obviously livid and ready to relieve Maenadan of his head, he nevertheless did not inflict any lasting wounds on the people who were trying to run away from him.
Maenadan smirked again as he spotted Dilly in the background slowly strangling and realized that Taras didn’t know that his lover was seconds away from dying anyway. Maenadan started shouting out orders at the guards who were falling over themselves in confusion.
“Meloram! Take your squad and restrain that man,” he said pointing to the stalking Prince Amrothos. He turned and pointed to another guard that hadn’t so much as batted an eyelash at the proceedings. “Lieutenant, make a perimeter around the gallows and make sure the lever gets pulled this time! Henomir, escort the doctor to the dungeons, I’ll need to have a good talk with him. Sergeant, take the Princess back to her quarters and guard her until I come for her. This madman may try to kill her again.”
The few he had commanded obeyed. His next orders to the other soldiers, however, were almost completely ignored. The soldiers were either arguing or staring at Taras like he was some sort of god. Some of the soldiers had run off and others were hesitating. And Taras was still coming. Maenadan felt a quick shock of fear run through his body and he watched things fall apart. Luckily, he had a backup plan. He just needed a distraction.

Taras saw some of the guards pull Lothiriel out of the carriage and haul her towards the palace. Taras could feel his anger knotting his shoulders and lengthening his stride. He took advantage of the state of confusion and cut though the crowd. His mind was bent on revenge and he reveled in the look of shock and fear that crossed Maenadan’s face. Maenadan started looking around frantically, his hand closing convulsively over the jeweled hilt of his sword. Then, just as suddenly as the fear had shown on his face, it vanished and was replaced with a near grin that wasn’t directed at Taras, but at something behind him. Taras heard a dull wooden thunk and promptly ignored it. Nothing was stopping him now.
Dilly! A voice shouted in his mind. Get Dilly! Taras turn around! Dilly is dying! DILLY IS DYING! This last was so loud it was impossible to ignore and Taras wrenched his face around to stare in alarm at Dilly who was swinging freely. Dread filled his stomach and he hesitated for a split second as he remembered that Lothiriel was being dragged away. She’ll be fine Taras thought wildly as he abruptly changed direction and ran full speed toward the gallows.

As soon as Taras’ attention was diverted, Maenadan signaled the archers he had ringing the courtyard. A hundred men suddenly stood and trained their arrows on the sprinting prince. But that wasn’t his backup plan. He then turned and scanned the crowd, his gaze coming to rest on a young boy close by who was probably not more than thirteen years old.
“Boy!”
The boy’s eyes widened and he pointed to himself, tilting his head as if to ask ME? Maenadan drew closer and gestured towards the harbor. “Boy, go down to the docks. There will be a man waiting there who is wearing what looks like a red sash. Tell him ‘Now.’”
“Tell him what?”
“Tell him ‘Now.’”
“But I…”
Maenadan’s patience snapped and he yelled, “Tell him! NOW!”
The boy’s face went slack in terror at the Captain’s loss of composure. He scrambled backwards and took off down a cobbled side street.

Taras’ fear pushed his legs faster as he swerved, ducked, jumped, and smashed his way through the crowd once again. People must have been getting the general gist, however, because there were fewer people milling about. Most had taken refuge along the sides of the courtyard, hiding in archways and doorways. One woman seemed to stand out from the rest of them. She had dark shoulder-length hair, and a heart-shaped face. She had her arms held out in front of her and she looked to be concentrating very hard on something. Taras dismissed her presence and kept running. The gallows were surrounded by a ring of guards that looked to have no intention of letting Taras through. Taras found the tallest guard and headed straight for him. The man set his bulky shoulders and charged Taras. Right before they smashed into each other Taras dropped and slid through the guards legs, gravel ripping through the already torn fabric of his trousers and digging into his skin. He flipped around, kicked at the back of the guard’s knees and sent him tumbling.
Taras turned again, sizing up two more guards that were charging him. He went straight for the middle of the two. Before they could react he had dropped his sword, hooked both arms around their necks and pulled hard in the other direction. The guards choked and dropped to the ground. Two more guards came up behind the second pair. Taras nearly screamed in frustration.
“I don’t have time for this!” He hurriedly picked up his sword as he dodged to the side, out and around the guards. This left his way clear. Taras jumped up the steps. Dilly had stopped struggling and was swinging back and forth, her hands twitching slightly. The guard at the top of the stairs was looking curiously blank-faced and made no move to stop Taras as he cut the rope cleanly in half. He had timed the swinging badly, however, and Dilly’s head hit the edge of the platform as she dropped the rest of the way through the trapdoor.
Taras hurriedly looked through the hole and saw Dilly laying facedown on the sun-warmed ground. A pool of blood grew around her head and the dark liquid ran through the cracks in the cobblestone. She made no movement to stand, or to get her mouth and nose away from the blood. The moment Taras realized that he couldn’t tell if she was breathing or not Taras’ own breath caught in his throat.
“Dilly?” He croaked out. She lay still. “Dilly?” He called again, his voice slightly louder. He was interrupted by what could only be termed as a gleeful chuckle. Taras slowly raised his head and looked into Maenadan’s smiling face. Taras’ fury at Maenadan, at his own situation, at the soldiers holding them captive, at everything that had gone wrong in the past few days drained out of him. He was left standing there with Dilly’s body at his feet and a sword in his hand. His head felt empty of anything but a dull realization that this very well could be the end.
Maenadan must have seen something in Taras’ eyes because his smile widened and he smoothed the metal of his badge back and forth with his thumb.
“Ah, and you tried so hard.” Maenadan sighed dramatically. “So you see my friends, the criminal has finally stopped running,” he said, gesturing to the people crowded along the walls. “He is outnumbered and outmatched, and his pretended sadness at his partner-in-crime’s death is simply an attempt to manipulate you all. A wasted effort if you ask me.” He paused dramatically and the people started whispering back and forth to each other. Maenadan raised his voice endeavoring to get control of the crowd back.
“And some may wonder at the suggestion that this is their beloved Prince Amrothos back from the dead.” The people of the city’s voices rose to such a din that Maenadan had to wait several seconds before he was able to speak again. His eyes found Taras’. “You all will remember that when I returned from that fateful journey to Rohan three years ago I told you all what happened and I will tell you again: I myself saw Prince Amrothos overwhelmed by orcs and slaughtered after he ran away from our camp in an attempt to escape the ambush.” His eyes gleamed as he saw Taras’ spine slowly straighten and a look of pure hatred come across the princes face.
“I did not run away.” He spoke softly but everyone else understood because they were straining to hear what this man had to say on the matter. “You ran. I merely followed until you led me-”
“That’s enough!” Maenedan yelled and held his hand up to again silence the murmuring crowd. “This man is the man who attempted to murder our beloved Princess Lothiriel! This man is in league with the corsairs and has been leading their attacks on our shores for years!”
At that Taras’ eyes widened and his head tilted in confusion. Suddenly he heard violent coughing coming from below him and his heart jumped into his throat. Dilly was alive!

Hitting the edge of the platform had not only been painful but also extremely annoying. The good thing was that she had blacked out as soon as she hit the ground. When Dilly slowly regained consciousness she blinked her eyes open and immediately wished she hadn’t woken up. Her throat felt like it was raw and someone had set it on fire. The blood was pumping so fast through her head she thought she might pass out again from the pain. At least she could breathe. She took one slow breath and cringed not only at the rasp of the air moving through her bruised esophagus and the pounding of her head, but a new pain that felt like a broken bone in her shoulder. Great.
She slowly became aware of other things happening. Dilly heard Maenadan’s too-confident voice rising above the noise of the muttering commoners. She tasted blood in her mouth and only then realized that the entire right side of her face was covered in it. It had gotten in her hair, her nose, and her eye. Blech.
Dilly suddenly heard Taras’ voice, it sounded defeated. Dilly rolled to her good side and looked up through the trapdoor at Taras who was quivering in anger. She tried to call to him, to say something that might help. As soon as she tried, however, her throat closed and she started coughing up what felt like her lungs. Her entire body convulsed and her head started pounding worse than ever. But when she looked up again and saw Taras looking at her like she had just…well…come back from the dead it made the pain worth it.
“Taras,” she whispered. He smiled and his whole face lit up. She could see the relief written across his face. Dilly then spoke loud enough for others to hear, “Amrothos!” *cough* *hack* “You’re alive!”
Taras’ body seemed to swell and he looked up sharply at Maenadan in triumph. Taras caught a flash of panic in Maenadan’s face as he raised his arm, looking every inch a prince.
“I am Prince Amrothos, the third son of Prince Imrahil, and brother to Princess Lothiriel. I was imprisoned unjustly in Orthanc for 3 years following the betrayal of Captain Maenadan.”
The entire crowd gasped. There was a split second of silence when everyone looked at Taras once again.
“This IS Prince Amrothos of Dol Amroth! I recognize him!” A man shouted from the crowd. Others began to shout as well, yelling louder and louder in an effort to make themselves heard. “It IS him! It is! Prince Amrothos back from the dead!”
The crowd surged forward.
Maenadan felt that things were crashing down around his ears. He screamed over the cacophony at the archers who were still mostly in place. “Shoot him! I order you to bring that imposter down!” Hardly anyone was paying attention. In fact, only one soldier even spared him a glance. Maenadan caught the soldiers eye and yelled at him. “Kill that man right now or I’ll have your head!”
Dilly heard the Captian’s shout and she jerked her gaze back to look at the poor soldier who was hesitating.
“Taras, watch for-” *cough* *splutter* “-the archers!”
And the arrow flew.

Taras was busy trying to calm down the excited crowd. They asked question on top of question, moving forward so that they could touch his filthy feet and pull on the rags of his trousers. Well if that wasn’t a little awkward. He thought he’d finally got them quieted down when he heard Dilly’s warning and twisted instinctively to the right as he brought his sword up and literally cut the arrow out of the air. The two pieces flew past on either side of his head. Everyone gaped in shock.
“Great green Ulmo on a stick,” breathed a guard, pale-faced and bug-eyed. “Is that man human?”
And just like that all of the doubters were convinced of the truth. Nobody could do that. But Prince Amrothos could. Taras saw the faces of the crowd reach this conclusion and the entire guard as a body turned to look at Captain Maenadan for instruction.
Maenadan mouth had dropped open and he did the one thing he could think of: he froze up. The guards were staring at their Captain in surprise. Nobody seemed sure of what to do next.
There was a scream in the distance. Then another. Everyone turned to look towards the harbor at the townsman who had just staggered into the courtyard.
“Corsairs!” he cried. “Corsairs are attacking!”
A big deep breath.
“You brought the corsairs?” Taras growled. Maenadan blinked. His cool composure had left him sometime before and all he could do was regulate his breathing and try not to look traitor-like.
Taras started towards him once again, only this time he had the entire guard on his side. Maenadan turned and fled. He jumped down a side street out of sight.
And just as suddenly Taras was in command. For Taras, being in charge was as easy as breathing, and he wore his authority like a well-tailored coat.
“You, you, and you,” he pointed to some guards. “Take Lady Dilly to the healers immediately.” The three of them moved quickly. “Sergeant go down to the docks and protect as many as you can.” He gestured to the people in general. “Good people, our city is under attack by the very corsairs that have been attacking our cities up and down the coast for years. We need you…I need your help. Can you fight?”
An incredible roar filled the area and the people rushed toward the harbor.
“Taras!” Dilly yelled over the sound of the stampeding crowd. “Where are you going?”
“To find Maenadan,” Taras said simply. He set off at a dead run.

And that’s it! I hope it was okay. Tuima will be putting up the next part (because I begged for her help) and we’re going to get this freaking storyline moving again!
Loves to all!

Taras vaulted off the edge of the gallows and was already sprinting by the time he landed. He cut through the bobbing, milling, shouting mass of people without any sort of difficulty: when you are a long-lost military commander wearing bloodstained prison rags and an expression like an unsheathed knife, people tend to be anxious to get out of your way and let you get on with your business – which hopefully does not involve them. Members of the crowd scattered like pigeons.
Because honestly, the alternative simply did not bear thinking about.

There was no doubt that Maenadan knew Taras was coming. The way he bowled people out of his way in accelerating panic was a definite clue, as were the increasingly horror-stricken glances over his shoulder.
Taras was gaining.
Maenadan skidded around a corner and ducked into an abandoned side street. The iron nails in his boots threw up a flicker of bluish sparks, which faded and died, unheeded, as Maenadan sprinted on. Somewhere ahead he could hear the clash and roar of battle: the corsairs had clearly defeated the guards at the docks and were working their way into the streets of the city. A plan shouldered its way through the clammy mists of panic filling Maenadan’s brain.
If he could slow Taras down enough, delay him just a little, he could escape into the chaos of the corsairs’ battle, lose Taras amid a mob of well-armed and bloodthirsty men, and make his way onto one of his allies’ ship. And from there, away – far far away – because Maenadan knew that a mob of corsairs would only slow Taras for so long. Maenadan needed to be able to plot his revenge without the fear of sudden steely death bearing down on him at roughly the speed of sound.
He threw another glance over his shoulder in time to see Taras take the corner so fast that he was forced to run a few steps along the opposite wall, leaning almost parallel to the ground in order to counter his momentum.
Maenadan yelped something profane, and ducked around another corner. The sounds of warfare were increasing. Meanadan could almost smell the battle: the metallic stink of blood and fear, the acrid tang of sparks from blade meeting blade.
It might as well have been miles away. Taras was too fast: he would catch up with Maenadan in seconds. With a wordless snarl of panic, Maenadan looked wildly around the narrow lane in which he’d found himself.
A smile lit his features with sudden, savage glee. He snatched something off the cobbles and dove around one last corner, flattening himself against the wall of a tiny alleyway, half-hidden behind a large rain barrel. As Taras’ footsteps pounded closer, he gripped his newfound weapon tightly and slid down the wall until he was completely hidden behind the barrel.
This might actually work. This day could actually be salvaged.
He just had to make sure that Taras died quickly.

Here I am! Back from the dead! Or rather York. Had an *awesome* time, but my muses rather deserted me over there. Now I'm back in Utah and I can write! Ha ha! Onward!

Wlore fought off a palace guard with salad fork. He was annoyingly unbeatable, but then she had a salad fork. She wished she had the meat platter on hand, but Daft-eye was busy smacking his opponent senseless with it. Rig was wielding the salad tongs quite effectively against two more guards, and the Bosun’s mate was using the punch bowl and ladle as a shield and sword. Wlore looked wildly about the hall. A dozen Southron guards were assailing the pirate group, but an even greater number were still busy doing the Irish jig. That preserved the pirates’ upper hand for now, but how long would the music last?
“This is all your fault!” Wlore spat over her shoulder.
Captain Adremis was slow in delivering a response because he was engaged in warding off the grapefruits viciously thrown at him by Eredolyn.
“My fault?” He cried as he blocked the projectiles with his sword. “How is this my fault? I told you to turn at the red fish tank!”
“You said blue!”
“I said red!”
Wlore was about to yell back but she found herself immersed in the activity of staying alive. The guard had cut her salad fork clean through. She was reduced to grabbing a spare dessert bowl from the table and flinging it at the Southron’s face.
An hour ago she wouldn’t believe any of this would happen to her.

***

One hour earlier: “It’s time to get up.”
Eredolyn refused to budge from her bed.
“I’m not kidding,” Wlore hissed. “It’s time to get up and rescue for our sorry muse. Now, Eredolyn.”
At this point Wlore didn’t bother waiting for a response from the auburn head buried in its pillow. She pulled on Eredolyn’s arms in an attempt to lift her, but the immie was a dead-weight. She used all the force she could muster and then forgot her own strength. She sent Eredolyn spilling onto the floor with a big Thunk.
“What are you doing?” It was Brenz’s turn to hiss. “We were explicitly ordered to be quiet.”
“Can you give me a hand?” Wlore began gathering the mess that was Eredolyn from the floor.
“Can’t,” Brenz said. “I’m to busy with…this.”
Wlore saw that Brenze was guiding the very messed-up Eicys around the bedpost. She looked even more crazed and jittery than that afternoon. She was clutching the butterfly pendant against her chest with such force that Wlore could see the veins in Eicys’ hands take the form of white streaks.
“Great,” Wlore flung her hands. “It’s been thirty seconds into our rescue mission and two of our members are already incapacitated. Whose idea was this?”
“I’m fine,” Eredolyn muttered as she raised herself from the floor. Wlore looked down and even in the dim light of the oil lamp she could see that Eredolyn’s eyes were nearly swollen shut from crying. Or lack of sleep. Or both.
“What is wrong with you?” Wlore demanded.
“I’m fine,” Eredolyn quipped. “Are we rescuing the stupid muse or not?”
Wlore raised her brow in surprise. Eredolyn was always the enthusiastic one when it came to questing. Wlore pegged her as the last immie to refer to the muses as “stupid.” Well, the second-to-last-immie, anyway. Wlore couldn’t imagine Cebu calling anyone stupid.
“Come on,” Wlore said as Eredolyn stood up and Brenz had guided Eicys haphazardly forward. “They’re waiting for us outside.” The immies didn’t bother changing out of their clothes when they went to sleep. With the slinging on of sword-belts and packs they were ready. As they were about to exit the room Wlore turned to Brenz.
“Brenz?”
“Yes?”
“You fell asleep in the girls’ dormitory.”
Brenz looked at Wlore, then around the room they were standing in, then said “Shut up.”

***

When they reached the center of the Main Commons, with its ominous statue of Fortune looming above, the rest of the party was already waiting for them. There were only ten in all, the rest of the crew had already been sent back to the Greed hours before. It seemed like an impossibly small force to take on the King of Harad’s palace, but Wlore had to remind herself that it wouldn’t come to that; they were sneaking into the King’s quarters, grabbing the muse, and sneaking out. End of story.
Wlore was certain they were going to die.
“Ready?” The Bosun asked the little party. Apparently he was the Captain’s right-hand man on this mission.
“Aren’t there guards patrolling this area?” Brenz wondered aloud. “And wouldn’t they wonder why ten pirates are conglomerating in the Commons at an unnatural hour of the night?”
“Six.” Wlore refused to confuse the immies with pirates.
“That’s been taken care of,” Adremis answered as he inspected his sword. “Courtesy of Good-arm.”
Wlore noticed Eredolyn suddenly tensed when Adremis spoke. “Where are we going, exactly?” Wlore asked.
“Back way,” The Captain nodded to the darkness behind the statue.
“And then where?”
Adremis sheathed his sword. “Just follow the bodies,” He said.

***

When they followed the trail of on Southron bodies along the back end of the plaza, Wlore was about to be, perhaps for the first time in her life, a bit disturbed. But when the fifth guard they passed started to snore she realized what had happened.
“When did the Captain find time to drug this many guards?” She asked the Bosun as they ran briskly across the marble pavement.
“He didn’t. Good-arm arranged it before he left,” Here the Bosun smiled. “…With the assistance of the harem, of course. How can a parched man resist a courtesan offering him a drink?”
Wlore looked down at yet another guard snoring. “And are all the guards in the palace drugged?”
“No,” He laughed. “Just the ones that are in our way.”
She now looked back at the other immies. Considering Eredolyn’s obvious distress and Eicys’ mental condition they were going at a remarkably good pace. Eredolyn looked composed enough to at least mind herself, Brenz thankfully had a handle on Eicys, and Eicys (praise the gods) was skiddish but not downright insane.
“And we’re going…where, exactly?” Wlore’s question had never been directly answered and she was becoming annoyed.
The Bosun hesitated. “…We’re taking a backwards, complicated, indirect, and very roundabout route-”
“Bosun-”
“To the King’s bedchamber.”
…Wlore got her answer. But now she found herself wishing she hadn’t asked.

***

-Now Wlore was wishing she was still in bed.
How did she even get into situations like this? Just a couple years ago her sole occupation was cleaning muck out of her family’s barn. Then a year ago she was grudgingly scrubbing Orthanc’s floors, now she was pointing a short-sword against a very red and angry King of Harad, who was gagged and hog-tied in his bed, with a cluster of pirates arguing about how to open his vault.
“Mmm-mm-mmphf!”
“I’m sorry.”
“Mm-mphf?”
“No seriously. You have no idea.”
“Mmm-mm-mmphf!”
“Look, if you hadn’t tried to swindle Adremis none of this would have happened,” She realized she was using her scolding-a-naughty-child voice. “Sorry. We’re just going to grab the Witch of Dance and be on our way. Just bear with us, it’s an immie thing.” This was becoming excruciatingly painful. Wlore turned to the pirates. “Well? Where is she?”
“Working on it,” Rig muttered, clearly immersed in his work. “She wasn’t in the second one.”
“The second what-?” Wlore looked at the far end of the King’s room for the first time. “There’s three vaults?!”
The King, though bound in his bed, was looking smug.
“He’s got tons of swag,” Grey Hound observed. “Most of it’s too big and heavy to cart though.”
Wlore looked at the two open vaults. There were statues of gold and chandeliers of pearls, but no muse. Wlore noticed that some pirates were taking liberties with the more portable swag, snickering as they did so. She also noticed the pirates’ very peculiar method of opening the third vault door.
“You’re picking the lock with your swords?”
“You wouldn’t believe the size of these locks.” Brenz looked at the locks on the previous vaults and the cluster of twisted swords protruding from them.
“Well stop doing that, you fools!” Wlore cried. “Or we won’t have any swords left!”
“I agree,” Adremis said. “Make do with what you have. We still have to escape and all the weapons we have left are mine, Miss Wlore’s,” his eyes lighted on the jittery Eicys. “And I’m praying she wasn’t equipped with one.”
Wlore looked from her weapon to the Captain’s. This was no longer becoming such a feasible idea. “We have to get out of here,” She murmured.
“I got it!” Hook cried. “Open it! Open it!”
The pirates got behind the door and groaned under the weight as they pulled the door open. Slowly, almost painfully, the door creaked open. Wlore let out a long sigh of relief when she saw the muse standing in the doorway.
-And her breath fell short when she realized that it was just an assortment of robes and stack of wigs.
The pirates stared at the third vault, wholly bereft of their muse. Moments ticked by. In the silence Eicys absently lifted the blankets and took a look under the bed.
Adremis turned on the King with the slow inevitability of an oncoming glacier. “Where is she?”
The King made no sound, but gave a triumphant look.
“I asked you a question.” Adremis said.
Again the King’s smug face was his reply.
Adremis was about to advance, sword in hand, when Wlore jumped into his path. “Captain, stop. He won’t tell us. As soon as we un-gag him he’ll just shout for the guards. And how far do you think you can run if you’ve spilt the King of Harad’s blood?”
Adremis stared down at the King, but Wlore could tell that her logic was reaching him.
“We have to go. We have little time and only two weapons. If we don’t leave now we won’t make it out of the city alive.”
“She’s right, Captain,” The Bosun chipped in. “The King won’t say anything. It’s pointless staying here.”
Adremis continued staring. It was as if he staked his pride in this mission. Finally, after a long, long moment in which even Eicys held her breath, the Captain’s shoulders sagged.
“We will retreat,” he said.
The pirates didn’t need to be told twice. Sunrise was painfully near and their nerves were steadily shrinking. They made for the door in an orderly but hasty fashion. The Bosun lead the way and Brenz carefully escourted Eicys from behind. Adremis was the last to leave the room. He adjusted his sword belt and looked at the King of Harad, who was all but waving a self-satisfied goodbye.
“Before you start to gloat about your victory over Adremis the Pirate,” Adremis said. “Reflect on this: I am not the one tied to his bed with his vaults open.”
The King stared.
Adremis reached for the door, sweetly added “Good night,” and gently closed it behind him.
The King looked at his ropes, and then around his room.
He turned scarlet red and began howling through his gag.

Wlore really didn’t want to ask him. She didn’t care, and it was none of her business. But their mission had just resulted in failure and she had to know if the party’s leader was still composed. As they entered another hallway she turned to the quick-striding Adremis “Are you all right?”
“I don’t understand it.”
“I’m sorry Captain-”
“I don’t understand it,” He tore on, more to himself than to anyone else. “The King’s vaults were the most secure place for the muse. Where else could he have possibly put her?”
Wlore wearily ran a hand through her hair. What were they going to do? The immies had followed the muse all the way to the heart of Harad. They couldn’t go back to Orthanc without her. But they couldn’t stay in the palace for another moment either. Where was she?
Wlore suddenly had an idea.
“Adremis?”
“Yes?”
“What if the King didn’t see you as a threat?”
Adremis ground to an abrupt halt, sending the entire party crashing behind him. Then there was silence.
“…In the most hypothetical sense of course,” Wlore quickly added. “But if the King assumed you wouldn’t try a suicidal rescue mission, and it was just a normal evening, where would he keep her?”
Adremis glared down his nose at the Rohirrim. “Are you suggesting that this is a normal evening, Miss Wlore?”
“If I owned the Witch of Dance,” Rig speculated. “I’d probably keep her near a place where I’d entertain guests.”
“Like a theatre?”
“Zoo?” Dafteye muttered.
“Banquet hall, perhaps?” The Bosun tried. “The King mentioned using her at feasts, didn’t he? And I remember seeing a musicians’ gallery tucked above the rafters.”
Pirates and immies alike stared at each other.
“She is not in the musicians’ gallery,” Adremis quipped. “The King would not store her in a place so easily accessible to me.”
“He would if he didn’t see you as a threat.”
“-In the hypothetical sense, of course,” The Bosun quickly added.
“She could be there, Adremis,” Wlore continued in earnest. “Shouldn’t we at least try?”
The Captain looked at Wlore, then at his party, then at a nearby window, through which he could see the sky already turning sickly pale. “If you want to risk our escape on a hunch I shan’t stop you, but you’re on your own. Take anyone who feels exceptionally foolhardy, the rest of us will try to keep the exit secure.” Adremis paused before turning away. “The Banquet hall is on the left past the flight of stairs. When you leave, be sure to take the exit next to the red fish tank, not the blue one. And if you do not show up at the back entrance by daybreak, you will be truly on your own.”
“You are most gracious, Captain,” Wlore’s voice was sickeningly sweet. With that Adremis took the hall to his right, retracing their intricate route to the south end of the palace. A few of the pirates followed in suit, but Dafteye and the immies stayed behind.
“Brenz,” Wlore said. “I need you to take Eicys and go with them.”
Brenz blinked. “Are you mad? I’m not letting you-”
“Please, Brenz,” Wlore was resolute. “Don’t waste what little time we have by arguing. Eicys is in poor condition and I can’t look after her if…if things go wrong.”
After a moment Brenz put his hands on Eicys’ shoulders, but his eyes never left Wlore.
“If we had just had a moment to ourselves, I would tell you-”
“Please Brenz, don’t. Just go.”
Brenz looked at her, and then pulled Eicys away. He kept looking over his shoulder at her until he rounded the corner and was beyond her sight.
“Miss Wlore?” Dafteye began.
“Come on,” Wlore blinked away the look on Brenz’s face and plunged forward. Her little party could only follow her steps in careful silence.
All the while the sky outside was growing paler.

The Banquet hall was a silent blue.
The party crossed the marble floor with an almost reverence as they looked up at the soft pillars and the even deeper blue ceiling, which fell skyward into the darkness. The tables on either side were furnished with polished dinnerware and bowls of sweet-smelling fruit; they also had been enveloped by the blue tinge of night.
There was a small spiral staircase on the right hand side, leading into the gloom of the musicians’ gallery. One by one the two immies and Dafteye quietly ascended the staircase, their eyes adjusting to the blue shadows and gauzy darkness as they went. At last they reached the gallery, only to find-
Terpsichore.
-In a gilded cage.
-And mad.
The party blinked at her. The muse on the other hand was a lot more productive with this weighty moment.
“Do you see this?” She hissed. “Do you see what I’ve been reduced to? Get a good look! Paint a mural; you all have been standing here long enough! What took you so long? Where have you been?”
“Sorry,” Wlore muttered while she began fitting a hairpin into the lock. “Captain Adremis was detained.”
“By whom? The guards? The King?”
“No,” The lock opened with a light click. “His ego.”
With a silvery creak the cage door swung open.
Terpsichore rose and dusted herself off. “The next time you perform a rescue it had better be more organized. And not so painfully delayed.” She stepped out of the cage and looked back at her rescuers. “Well? Shouldn’t we be on our way?”
The party gaped at her, and then snapped their mouths shut. Slowly they began filing down the staircase after their quick-paced rescuee. “When we get back to the ship I’ll have her roasted,” Dafteye muttered.
“I have to take her back to the pool first,” Wlore muttered back. “But after I do, there will be a roast. And you’ll be invited.”
The immies proceeded down the staircase and across the blue floor. When they came to the end of the hall they were faced with two exits; next to either door was a fish tank, one red and one blue.
Wlore recalled Adremis saying something about fish tanks. “I think we’re supposed to go this way.” She proceeded to turn at the blue tank.
She pushed open the door and the immies, the muse, and Dafteye were suddenly blinded by a brilliant light. Once their eyes adjusted, they were met by the stares of a dozen Southron guards, who were changing clothes and shaving by torchlight.
The silence could not have been more profound. It was so still that even the blinking between both parties could be heard.
“Sorry,” Dafteye was the first to find his voice. “Wrong door.”
The guards lunged forward, but by this time the little group heaved against the door and slammed it shut, just against the tips of the Southrons’ fingers.

* * * *

Wlore, Eredolyn, Dafteye, and Terpsichore pressed against the door with all their weight, much to the vexation of the guards who were pounding on it from the other side.
“Well done,” the muse said.
Eredolyn glared. “That’s Dilly’s line.”
They felt themselves nearly bounced off the door when the guards managed to heave in unison, but the immies pushed again in full force. Wlore pulled out her sword and managed to thread it through the braces on the doorframe, effectively bolting the door against the Southron assault.
“Nice,” Dafteye commented.
“Except I’m weaponless now,” Wlore pointed out.
“We’re fine as long as they can’t-”
BANG.
The guards must have found something heavy and rammed the door in unison. To the immies’ disbelief, Wlore’s sword was nearly bent out of shape.
“Quick, the fish tank!”
Everyone (with the exception of Terpsichore, who was not prone to exerting herself) went behind the nearby fish tank and heaved against it until it groaned across the marble floor. They managed to fit it in front of the door as Wlore’s sword became bent in half. The banging continued on the other side, but with little progress.
The immies panted, leaned against the tank, and panted some more. Then their blood froze when Dafteye pointed out something so obvious that had been completely overlooked.
“The other door!”
Everyone looked at the door illuminated by the red fish tank, not six yards away. They flung themselves across the room towards the door, but too late. Someone had already turned the knob and was beginning to open it. Wlore threw herself and every ounce of weight she possessed towards the door-
And crashed into Adremis.

The Captain’s wild grip on the doorframe was all that kept them bowling down the stairs on the other side. With a flurry of hushes the rest of the party scrambled into the Banquet Hall and shut the door fast behind them.
“What are you doing here?” Wlore began.
“We heard your banging all the way from the back exit, you fools!” Hook spat.
“It wasn’t us-”
“Barricade the door,” Adremis ordered. “There were people coming up behind us-”
A bang against the door proved his point. Without further commotion everyone pushed against the remaining fish tank, leaving black streaks against the polished floor. When the door was sufficiently blocked, the party backed into the hall.
“You idiots,” Grey Hound towered over the immies and Dafteye. “If you left our way you would’ve had a clear shot to the exit! What did you go and open the guards’ rest-up for?”
“Hey, the Captain said-”
“Stop bickering,” Adremis snapped. Then he turned and found himself staring at Terpsichore.
“…She was in the musicians’ gallery?” He asked.
“Yes,” Wlore said.
“The whole time?”
“That’s right.”
He stared some more.
“Well,” He concluded. “That’s degrading.”
Ignoring him, Wlore turned and for the first time saw Brenz. She looked into his eyes. “Brenz?” She asked.
“Yes?”
“What are you doing here?”
He frowned defensively. “I came back for you.”
“With Eicys in tow!” she gestured to the jittery thing still clinging on Brenz’s arm. She didn’t care that she was shouting, not with the guards hammering away at the doors. “What were you thinking?”
Dafteye timidly raised a hand. “Can I make a comment?”
“I believe we are need of a plan, not a commentary,” Adremis sighed at his shipman.
“But it’s a very good comment,” Dafteye insisted earnestly. “Banquet halls, you see, tend to have lots of doors.”

Everyone, even Wlore, grew silent. They slowly turned and there, standing in the middle of the banquet hall, was to the squadron of Haradrim. Their faces were stern and their swords were drawn.
The pirates stared helplessly as the soldiers crossed the marble floor. They must have numbered at least fifty. Fifty armed soldiers descending on a dozen pirates, equipped with nothing but their fists and feet, which they were not certain they’d be in possession of for much longer. Wlore had thought about how she would die before, mostly it was in the halls of Orthanc. But now she would die in the halls of Harad. There wasn’t much difference, except this place was even more far from home.
She wanted to say something to Brenz. If this was their final moment, she may as well tell him the thing she had been meaning to tell him. She turned to him and found herself staring into the dark eyes of…Terpsichore.
“You’re not Brenz,” she said flatly.
The muse smirked. “About to confess your feelings before you die, were you?”
“No.”
“Just as well, dying will have to wait. Now,” She turned and faced the soldiers. “Pick a song.”
Wlore wasn’t sure she heard right. “What?”
“A song. Pick one.” The muse watched the soldiers cross the floor at a steady speed and said “Now.”
Wlore was not in the habit of keeping a plethora of songs in mind. The last real song she heard was when Dilly and Eredolyn were on the tables in Edoras singing about a “…Beggarman?” she tried.
Terpsichore thought a moment. “Irish. Four counts. Jig, or reel perhaps?”
“Er-”
Then the first soldier raised his sword.

Brenz was making his way forward, but Adremis with his sword had beat him to it. He lunged in an effort for steel to make contact with steel while Wlore braced for the man’s sword to make contact with her pounding heart. She shut her eyes against the pain, but realized she didn’t feel any. Her eyes peeped open and were staring into the face of the soldier, whose body was completely void of motion. He stood there, sword frozen over Wlore’s head. The soldier’s eyes blinked in surprise and looked helplessly about the room.
Then came the sound of a violin.

The music didn’t come from anywhere. It was just there, defying the walls and echoes of the hall, as if it was in everyone’s heads. It was a fast-paced, breathless tune and Wlore recognized it quickly enough. She looked at the muse.
She has got to be kidding.The soldier looked down at his feet. They were now moving of their own accord. They tapped to the beat at first, then shuffled. The soldier watched in horror as his feet began kicking up and scuffling about, hitting the floor in time to the music.
Brenz watched as the soldier began performing a series of funny steps that he had never seen before. “Well,” he said. “That’s interesting.”
The other soldiers stared in shock at the odd, scuffling movements of their companion and contemplated laughing at him. This line of thought ceased when they found their own legs entirely not working. To their horror their own feet began to tap, the shuffle, and they cried out in dismay as their feet kicked up to the music simultaneously. The squadron of fighting Haradrim had dissolved into a line of, for lack of a better word in Wlore’s mind, jiggers.

Wlore turned to Terpsichore, whose prim face was now scrunched in hideous concentration. Her entire body seemed to shake as she exerted all her will into the movements of a hundred feet. Then Wlore realized. The feet.The first soldier, realizing his arms had regained their freedom, brought his sword down on Wlore. Adremis brought up his own sword to block just an inch before Wlore’s nose. He pushed the Haradrim back and, though his arms and sword flailed, the man fell in line with his dancing comrades.
Adremis stared at them all and said “I need a drink.”
“CAPTAIN!”
Everyone turned to where Greyhound was pointing, as the red fish tank toppled over with a groan and the door to the guardroom pushed open. Swords brandished, Haradric soldiers poured into the room, charging at the pirates while yelling obscenities.
Wlore glanced at Terpsichore. All of her focus, and all of her strength by the look of it, was being spent on the squadron in front of her. She could not help here.
It’s up to us then. Seeing the dining tables armed with their metal dishes, heavy platters, and pointy silverware, the pirates lunged for them as the soldiers charged forward.

Last edited by Eredolyn on Sun Apr 25, 2010 9:47 pm, edited 4 times in total.

Cebu closed her eyes, and tilted her head. Her heart pounded madly as she slid her hand up Kad’s arm.
BOOM
Cebu tightened her grip on the Welsh boy’s arm. She felt his pulse quicken.
BOOM
Both paused, inches from the other, and looked back at the gaping cave.
BOOM
Small pieces of shale fell to the ground, creating clouds of dust at the entrance of the cavern.
BOOM
“Cebu?" Kad kept his eyes fixed on the cave. "Please tell me that’s your heart beating loud enough that I can hear it.”
The redhead also was staring at the black hole. “I was hoping the same thing about you.”
BOOM
“Oh for the LOVE OF St. David!” He howled in utter frustration. “I’m gonna KILL THEM!”
Cebu looked at him apologetically. “Rain check?” she asked sweetly before she gripped the shoulder straps of her pack and took off running in the direction Erestor and Tuima pointed.

Running for your life in a cave where you are constantly ducking from low-hanging ceilings, stumbling in the filthy pitch black tunnels, crawling frantically through holes that you have to squeeze through or be eaten by the monsters snapping at your heels tends to take its toll on a person, whether Elf or human. All that disappears however as you run standing upright, as the wind blows the fresh night dew in your face, and as you can see for the first time without the aid of a torch. The horrors of the dark, damp caves of Moria melt and seeps away with every step that takes you further from the nightmare and farther to freedom.
Cebu spared a glance behind her as an arrow buried itself lazily in a grassy knoll to her left. Even the fierce monsters of the caves looked friendlier in the moonlight. She blushed, embarrassed at the thought, and then blushed deeper when she thought of what the others would say if she voiced the thought.
But even with the freedom comes fatigue. The monsters chasing them seemed to have an unending supply of arrows and energy and troops. The Moria Immies had always been able to recover, albeit it briefly, between their frantic running for their lives. Here in the open however there was no place to hide from the plain sight of their approaching enemies. Their only hope was to outrun the brutes, and that option wasn’t looking very successful at the moment.

Nice, Cebu. Thoroughly Ebil. And a big huzzah for Not-Kisses, which are, IMHO, vastly superior to the real thing. (At least, as far as fiction is concerned. Reality... eh, reality need not concern us here. )

Anyway, I wanted to post something about the Elves' reaction to all of this, seeing as how starlight is so important to them. It doesn't fit as neatly into Cebu's post as I would like, but hey, that's what rewrites are for, no? I did steal her "BOOM" motif. It was too good to pass up. So. Onwards.

BOOM.
Tuima stopped dead, arms spread wide, gasping raggedly as she stared at the sky. Beside her, Erestor crumpled to his knees, one hand clutched to his side and the other digging into the grass as though it were the only thing keeping him from plummeting off a precipice. Both of them wore expressions of ravenous bliss.
BOOM.
“I swear,” Erestor gasped at the sky, once he was capable of speech, “on the Valahaxar… I swear by the Everlasting Darkness…”
Tuima twitched, as though she would have liked to gawp at Erestor but could not fathom taking her eyes from the stars.
“…Never again,” the Seneschal finished.
BOOM.
“Never again,” Tuima agreed, her voice stark with fervor. “I so swear by Ring, Flame, and Void.”
Erestor performed the same twitch Tuima had. “So mote it be,” he said raggedly.
Tuima shivered.
BOOM.
“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” Cebu asked Kad.
“Hopefully,” said Kad, “some wicked brilliant plan to escape the orcs that are right behind us?! Tuima! Erestor! Hello? Snap out of it! We gotta move!”
“Go away,” said Tuima.
“Oy!” shouted Kad, dancing from foot to foot. “There’s a freaking army of ruddy orcs on its way! Now is not the time for stargazing!”
“I don’t care,” said Tuima.
BOOM.
“You should probably run,” said Erestor absently, his eyes fixed hungrily on infinity.
“So should you,” said Tuima, equally vague. She was trembling.
Kad threw his hands in the air. “ELVES!” he snarled.
“Go away, Kad,” Tuima and Erestor said simultaneously.
It was the first time Kad had ever heard them agree on anything. It was unnerving. One Elf giving orders was bad enough; but when they ganged up, Tuima and Erestor were a force of nature. The kind that crushed continents and left the smoking, flattened ruins of civilization to crumble pathetically into the uncaring Sea.
“Meep,” said Cebu.
“Meep,” agreed Kad.
BOOM.
“Running?” said Cebu.
“Right behind you,” said Kad.

Tuima, your last post will most definately make it into the final draft. (How ever long it may take us to get there is another matter entirely!)

“We’re gonna die. There’s no escaping this time. We’ve cheated death too many times to get out of this one. We’re most certainly going to die!” Kad’s mind screamed these oh-so-comforting thoughts as he and Cebu huddled together in the dark and muddy ditch. Pressed against the damp wall of clay, neither dared to breathe as the dark shadows passed over them.
The dull thudding of orc feet against damp earth caused several large quantities of dirt to fall onto the already be-grimed and be-grudged Immies. The ditch was several feet deep with a few inches of murky water sitting in the bottom. They were drenched from falling in the ditch face first. Kad realized he was sitting directly on top of a very sharp rock, but he didn’t dare move with orcs so close. He hoped they were sufficiently lost in the blood lust to not suddenly notice two easy targets trapped beneath them. He was also counting on the elves to have some sort of ruddy brilliant plan, but he also had some doubts as to their sanity after the way they were acting when they saw the stars.
Cebu’s hands held his in a death-like vise grip. As they huddled together Kad realized how disappointed he was going to be if they died and he never got the opportunity to kiss Cebu. He looked at her, the moonlight lighting the small cramped quarters. The bright beams showed her tired eyes with more detail than the smoky torches in Moria had. For the first time in a long time he noticed every little detail of her face. The shadows of the orcs blacked out her face every few seconds, but he took in many details. Her tired eyes for one, and the lines on her forehead from constantly squinting in the dark. The smudges on her face and the dark circles under her eyes stood out vividly against her pale skin. He noticed the way she shook as she sat next to him. She knew full well that there was a very distinct possibility that this was it. He wondered what else she was thinking, and how she felt about their impending demise.
At first he didn’t realize what he was doing. He assumed that he was leaning in to comfort her, perhaps this would be their last few moments together. If this was it, at least he was among friends. He leaned in---and kept leaning. This slightly alarmed him.
Oh.
Wait. Oh no oh no oh no oh no. No. She would not want this. He tried to tell himself that Cebu deserved something better, a time a place that was clean, where they weren’t sitting in three inches of chilled and muddy water. It wasn't working! And he got even closer.
The moon was exceptionally bright, and Cebu was exceptionally pretty.
She looked up.
Crud.And he kissed her.

As first kisses go, and he’d had plenty to compare it to, it tanked. He swooped in too fast, gave her a fleeting kiss, and in that short amount of time he felt her stiffen underneath his lips.
Right.He pressed his back to the dirt. Neither of the two dared to breathe as the dark shadows passed over them.
Kad, you will probably die, and you are still an idiot.

Erestor and Tuima had come back for them a while later, although Kad had a fleeting suspicion that it might have taken some strong convincing on Tuima’s part to retrieve them. Although, come to think about it, the councilor did seem slightly smug about the last battle. It must have put him in higher spirits, and made him half a degree more charitable. Kad just hoped the elf had got all the fighting out of his system. He was hoping for peace and quiet tonight. It wasn’t to be. The two elves were squabbling again. Kad didn’t take much stock in listening to their clever bickering. Maybe he could just tune them out and sleep. That sounded good. Sleeping on the ground, somewhere other than the cold stone of the mountains, would be a nice change. Maybe then he would wake up to a new world where he hadn’t lost his marbles and kissed her. He shook his head to clear the sudden memory. Smooth. That was real smooth Kad Caerefon. That might have worked on the other girls, but not with her.He took a sly side glance at Cebu. She was just sitting next to the campfire. It had burned down to the coals. Her ragged cloak was wrapped tightly around her arms, and she sat, staring into the ebbing glow. He cursed inside his head. She hadn’t said anything to him since they’d been fished out of the muddy ditch. Tuima had fussed over them as per-usual after a skirmish, checking for cuts and generally scolding them. She’d then gotten distracted by some smarmy remark by old Scar Face -although Kad would never dare to call Erestor that to his face, but Kad was feeling a little reckless tonight. And mad. But he would still never call Erestor that.
One of the last logs popped and drew his attention back to the campfire and the person sitting next to it. Just…sitting there. Not doing anything. Just sitting. Oh…and staring at him. That was a change. A good change? He wasn’t sure. But sooner or later he’d have to face the situation.
“Soooooo….” Nice. Smooth. You are all kinds of idiot. He smiled a half smile that he knew she liked. In response she drew her knees up to her chest and looked up at him, her face passive. What did that mean? He opened his mouth for another smooth line, and instead a rant began.
“Look, here you’ve been staring at me, like I’ve gone crazy, and you know what Cebu? I’m starting to think that maybe I have gone round the bend! Am I missing something here?” The dark haired boy began pacing back and forth, hitting his stride, the stopped suddenly and looked her Cebu right in the eye. “Did I repulse you? Am I repulsive? I’ll have you know that I have been told on quite a few occasions how good looking I am. So one good looking guy kisses one good looking girl, and then nothing?”
He looked Cebu in the eye, waiting for her to respond. He was disappointed. She just looked at him again, smiling a little half smile. He scowled. “You’re doing it again! Just staring at me, with your…blue eyes.” He said it like an accusation, hands on his hips. “And Not saying anything! I mean, you get kissed and you don’t even say anything? I have a good mind to…to…to…” he searched quickly through threats he could deliver to her. It was done. He’d already kissed her. Things couldn’t get any worse now…in fact… “Kiss you again.” He paused, and his boldness and frustration ratcheted up several notches. “Cebu? Yes. Yes. I think I will. You know what? I kissed you. And I plan to keep on kissing you.” He sauntered right up to her, and stood there, arms crossing over his chest. He looked down at her. “What do you think about that?”
She sighed and stood up to face him, then reached up, and took his hands in hers, intertwining their fingers. She looked up again, not saying anything.
“Wha-?” Kad asked, looking down in confusion, then sudden understanding dawning. “Oh! So….if I did do this...”, he leaned down, not bothering to let go of her hands, and gently tasted her lips. After several moments he pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, noses touching, “You would want me to do it again?”
She gripped his hands even tighter, “Kad?” and looked him square in the eye. “Yes… So. Very. Yes.” Their lips met, his arms wrapped around her waist, and pulled her in close.
Holy Crud.

Erestor and Tuima both noticed out of the corner of their eyes at the exact same moment. The scene before them temporarily shocked them into silence. Out came their more inquisitive natures.
“Shouldn’t they have to surface for air at some point?”
“Any point would be preferable.”
“Now?”
“Should we….?”
“I have no idea…”

I'm AAAAAAAAAALLLLLLIIIIIIVVVVVEEEE. Wow I haven't been on for almost three years!!! Sooo Bad, Bad Wlore. Hope everyone is well, I'm gonna try and email all of you, but I am thinking I should make a post, except so much has happened since I last posted. Think everyone can give me a run down of the important details and where everyone is at? I've read some of the posts, which still make me crack up , but a more condensed version may help.

Okay here goes. And feedback would good incase i'm off the rails. Also apologise for spelling mistakes. It's one thirty in the morning over here...

“Erego, this...” Wlore gestured briefly to her surroundings between smacking the head of a soldier with a half filled wine cask, (the one right behind the dessert bowl). “...Is your fault.”
“Like I said, I told you to go past the red fish tank, not the blue,” Adremis yelled. ‘Blue’ being barely audible after the snap of the wooden spoon he’d been using to beat back missile fruit. Eredolyn’s face was very dark now, her lips muttering away about something, as she picked up more fruit to hurl, from a fruit bowl that had an endless supply.
“You know what problem that you caused is even bigger?!” Wlore yelled.
“Unless it’s a ‘you’re welcome, for saving your nose’ Miss Wlore, I don’t really care at this point in time.”
“Your ego!”
BANG!!!
The soldier went down. Wlore turned to face Adremis, who now glared at her furiously as he continued to protect himself from Eredolyn's far-reaching arms. Wlore clenched her fists so she wouldn’t flinch from his I’m-about-smote-you-with-my-lightening-bolt gaze.
She took a deep breath, preparing to vent.
“You have managed to incapacitate three able-bodied people on this little adventure of yours. One is now deranged and under the care of another able bodied person. The other is too busy playing for the enemies side, in her own personal vendetta against you. Now she is useless to this mission thanks to you.”
The glaring continued as more fruit was hurtled Adremis’s away. His multitasking ability would have impressed most women, if both the current ones near him weren’t so intent in either insulting or assaulting him.
“Yourself? Well you have been half active on this trip because you have not only been screwing up my friends lives, but been overly effected by something from your past that was so irksome, at one point the impossible happened, you were at a loss for words. And now your ego, already enormous, was inflated further by this, and you failed to believe that the King might have underestimated your intelligence. You prolonged this mission, erego endangering not only this mission, but my life, the lives of my friends and the lives of your men.”
Adremis hissed under his breath and completely faced Wlore.
“So you commit mu-“ THWACK. Adremis was knocked to the ground.
Eredolyn had finally run out of fruit.
Wlore walked over to Adremis quickly, delivering a quick blow to a previously fallen soldier that had decided to stupidly to try to move. By now Daft-eye had given his opponent a permanent facelift and was helping Rig do the same to his second opponent. Brenz was busy dragging the collapsed Eicys out of harms way.
Wlore reached Adremis and hefted him up roughly to face her. He pulled away immediately brushing himself off.
“This isn’t your paranoid mutiny scene. You’re definitely more annoying than a stallion with a hard hoof and a mean kick. However you are a good captain."
Wlore paused to duck under the unidentified flying object.
"I am saying Adremis, pull yourself together, move on from your problems. You have a dozen, give or take, loyal men that followed you on this suicidal mission. Make it your priority to get them, and us out. That shouldn’t be hard.”
Wlore let the rest of her breath go. Letting out pent up rage was always good. Feeling the heat waves ripple off Adremis made her second guess this belief.
“I shall have you whipped for your insolence back on the ship,” he snapped. A metal spoon randomly whizzed over his head.
Wlore grinned.
“Can’t do that if we aren’t alive.” She glanced at Eredolyn, who still muttered curses under her breath as she fished around for another hard object to throw. “I’ll make you a deal? I’ll handle Eredolyn, while you figure out how to get us out of this mess?” Without waiting for answer she dashed over to Eredolyn.
The nerve, Adremis fumed silently to himself. He began to silently think of a way to punish the outspokeneness of Miss Wlore, when a sharp yell made his head turned. Rig had been delivered a nice long bloody gash to his forearm. Unfortunately this blow cost the soldier the precious time need to block the meat platter from almost knocking off his head. Last soldier down.
Adremis glanced back at Wlore, who was now busy trying to distract Eredolyn from her inconsolable rage against him. Looking back at his men, who were now scavenging a few weapons, Adremis had a thought. From that thought came another, which quickly led to a plan.
“Pirates!” he called out. His men looked up at him, and Daft-eye passed him a sword. “Its time to go!”

More will come...and then I have to go catch up on the tuima and E.ICebu's plight and Dilly's. That was sooo much fun though!! Cheers Wlore

Last edited by Wlore on Thu May 06, 2010 8:10 am, edited 4 times in total.

Wlore! Hooray! I'm so glad you're here with us again! W000t! That was a brilliant post, considering you've had to guess at where things are going because, brilliant us, we haven't kept you in the loop. Well done!

I added more to my previous post to make the transition between my scene and yours. I think it's a few posts up. Sorry that I never got around to doing that. Your posting inspired me to get on that, so thank you Wlore!
There's something that needs to happen in the next post (whether it's by you or me) which I'll email you about. Then after that it's fair game! I'm so glad you're back with us! The pirate immies need help! Forth to the womanless lands of manshire! Love, Ere.

Eicys had been clutching the butterfly ornament almost throughout the entire mini battle. Lucky for her Brenz had proven more than capable at fending off all their foes, even with three pronged candle stick and what appeared to be a now severely chipped metal bowl, and saving Eicys all at the same time.
Eicys barely noticed being pushed and pulled around by Brenz, as he saved her life again and again. A scruffy looking soldier advanced upon her, sword held high above his head menacingly. Eicys glanced at him, whimpered, preparing to die (as she had for the last 24 hours). The sword descended.
BAM!!
Brenz knocked Eicys out of the way to block the sword's downward arc with his candlestick (now two pronged), saving her life for the fourth time (not that anyone was really counting). He quickly ducked the left swing, that cut wide over his head, and full bodily slammed into the soldier and began grappling for the sword.
Of course Eicys hadn't seen all of this, as the instant that Brenz knocked her down, the butterfly was thrown from her fingertips. As Brenz struggled for his life with the burly soldier, a slightly winded Eicys frantically scoured the floors around her searching for the missing ornament, which was the key to her existance. Then she saw it, laying innocently under the red fish tank.
The burly soldier gained the upper hand, knocking Brenz off himself and scrambling up to pin him to the ground.
"Eicys, some help please," shouted Brenz
Eicys failed to recognise her name, as she crawled towards the butterfly ornament.
Brenz punched the burly soldier, drawing blood. Unfortunately the soldier managed to retained his grip on Brenz , and in retaliation drew a small knife from his belt.
"Eicys!"
She had reached the fish tank.
Four hands grasped the small knife, two pushing up, two pushing down.
One hand grasped the ornament.
"Mine," Eicys whispered.
"Eicys, forget the blasted trinket!" Brenz shouted louder.
Eicys looked over. The hovering knife dropped down an inch.
"An object can't curse you."
The knife was forced back to Brenz's attacker.
"But my spirit will, if you let me die!!"
The soldier pushed down with all his stre- just as Eicys hit right across the head with the heavy end of Brenz's candleholder. The guard rolled of Brenz and collapsed to the ground with a groan.
Brenz pulled himself to his feet and turned to thank Eicys for her late but very welcome timing. She stood there panting slightly, weapon clutched in one hand, ornament in the other. Before Brenz could say something she wordlessly passed him the candleholder.
"Thankyou," he said. Eicys nodded and went back to clutching the ornament to her chest as tightly as possible.

"Pirates!" called Adremis. Brenz turned to him for the next command. In the background was a comical display of soldiers who still danced an Irish jig. "Its time to go!"
He quickly turned to Terpsichore and murmured something. She shook her head in reply. Adremis turned and nodded curtly to Dafteye, who walked quickly over to the muse and literally swept her off her feet.
"Salvage a weapon, and make haste," Adremis commanded. He turned on his heel and moved swiftly towards the red tank, careful to tread on all the bodies of unconscious soldiers in his path. Dafteye followed swiftly.
Adremis paused as he past Brenz, who was surveying the survivors.
"No time to dawdle Mister Brenz. Find a sword and get moving," order Adremis. He glanced at Eicys. "Don't forget Miss Eicys or her butterfly."
Eicys glanced at Adremis as he said her name. If it were possible, she held on more tightly to the ornament, muttering under her breath something about 'mine'. Adremis shook his head and made his way to the door near the red fish tank.
Brenz snapped to attention (but not before he spotted Wlore, scouring for a weapon for herself and Eredolyn). Immediately he picked up the nearest two swords and hurried over to Eicys.
"Here," he said, attempting to push one of the swords into her hand. "You'll need this."
Eicys refused to take the sword, shaking her head. Brenz tried to pry a hand from the butterfly, but to no avail. No force could pry those tightly coiled fingers from their prize. Brenz sighed, tucking the sword into his belt.
"Come on," he said, grabbing Eicys with his left hand and followed Adremis, along with the rest of the group, through the door that hopefully led to freedom. Behind him he heard Wlore mutter. "He said blue."

Hehe. Let me know if that goes with the storyline. I wrote it while I was supposed to be doing my report on mental health. If its all good, I am happy to keep on writing (but would love to see someone else post) Until next time Wlore

The pirates left the banquet hall and plunged into the darkness of the corridor beyond. Faint moonlight from a window above showed that this space almost outmatched the banquet hall in its immensity; this was the great corridor of the palace and it would lead directly to the main entrance. At this point any way out of the building would do. The group ran through the blackness, the Bosun leading the way while the captain brought up the rear, his sword poised against anyone in pursuit.

In the darkness the Bosun stopped short and Wlore nearly ran into him. She was about to question his sudden halt, but heard a sickening sigh. His whole body became limp and collapsed onto the floor in a heap, blood seeping out from under him.
Wlore stared at the Bosun in horror. He was gone. One moment he was standing, breathing, fighting alongside the rest of them, and in an instant he was gone. Where he stood was a sword which protruded from the shadows, its edge now glistening red.

All the pirates stopped, their faces filled with shock. A Haradric soldier stepped over the Bosun’s body as if it were litter, and advanced on the rest of his prey.

The pirates were forced to back away. One of them called out in warning and the rest turned to see more points of swords coming out of the darkness. Swords and Haradrim came from all sides until they formed a ring around the group. The pirates spun about desperately, their short swords and various dinnerware pointed uselessly at the closing ring. These were not the soldiers they had encountered in the banquet hall; the majority of those had attacked with the intention of apprehending and arrest. These men had the intention of killing everyone in the room.
The pirates’ eyes adjusted and they could see in the moonlight that they were not only surrounded by the ring, but by dozens and dozens of soldiers poised beyond it. The Bosun was dead, Terpsichore barely had any strength left, the pirates were armed with three swords at most, and they were faced with fifty soldiers who had no qualms with spilling their blood.

The ring of blades uniformly came to a halt, all of them shining white and one of them still red with the boson’s blood. Pirates and immies pressed against each other’s backs, their breath stolen from them. The swords pointed towards the group, but they didn’t move in for the kill. They held their positions and everything became agonizingly quiet. The pirates knew they were dead men standing, and yet they were left like prisoners still waiting for the trapdoor of the gallows to drop.

The ring of swords widened to let in the Captain of the Guards, who looked like a man disturbed from his sleep and not happy about it. When his eyes rested on Adremis, however, it was with smug satisfaction.

“I believe the first time you set foot inside this sacred palace, Captain Adremis, it was to steal the slippers from the king’s feet,” he said. His dark face gave a sneer. “When you were caught I would have gutted you there and then, had not the king stayed my hand.”
Adremis said nothing.
“He called you ‘entertaining,’” the Captain continued sneering. “I knew when the king chose to take you in his employ it would only bring us misery. I think the point was made quite clear tonight, when I cut the ropes that bound him to his bed.” Here he smiled. “There are few times indeed when I have the chance to tell the king I am right.”
Adremis glared silently between the Captain and the sword still dripping with blood nearby.
“Do what you want with me,” he said in a voice of icy steel. “Leave. My. Men. Alone.”
“You presume to give me orders?” the Captain laughed. “No, Captain Adremis. Your days of making me look like fool are over.”
With a wave of his hand the man on his right stepped forward. Giving his sword a gratuitous swing, he advanced towards the little group. The pirates pressed closer together in panic.
“Stop,” a voice said.

The firmness of the voice, its absolute confidence, made the soldier pause in his approach. The pirates realized the voice came from somewhere in their cluster. They drifted apart to reveal Eicys, who glared at the soldier defiantly.
When the soldier saw her, he dropped his sword and it clanged against the marble floor.
“Goddess,” he murmured.

Eicys stepped out of the cluster and came next to Adremis, staring out into the swords and soldiers. There was something different about her, Wlore realized. She looked less skittish, more firm and steady. She glared at the ring of swords with a sort of regal contempt. Wlore concluded that she was still insane, but certainly more resolute in her madness.

There was a collective gasp among the soldiers at the sight of Eicys. Word had spread like wildfire about the golden incarnation of the Goddess. Now she stood before them in all her glory, the sacred butterfly pendant gleaming between her relaxed fingers. They shirked at the thought of having drawn swords at their beloved deity. The ring was broken as a few men let their swords fall from their hands. Some beyond the ring even dropped to their knees in awed reverence.
The Captain of the Guards looked uncertain.
Adremis glanced sideways at Eicys. Eicys glanced back, her eyes still regal and commanding. But she recognized the question he couldn’t ask and gave him a nod in reply.
In one swift motion Adremis caught Eicys by the arm and pressed the edge of his sword against her neck.
“Move and she dies,” he said to everyone in the room.

That's all for now! I'll try to get more out soon. I'm bringing my laptop to work now so I've got more time to write!

But first I believe it's time to hear from Taras, who is still rounding the corner towards an armed Maenadan.

A fun scene in the which Cebu and Kad show just how mushy they are and how annoyed Erestor can get at PDA. This scene is for Wlore, with the expectation that she not mix up the PDA with the RNA or DNA she’s studying. I promised her a new Kad/Cebu scene in a week and my time is up in a matter of hours.

The two mortals, however exhausted they claimed to be, certainly had taken quite a long time to fall asleep, Tuima noted. Although, it might have been all the unnecessary kissing and giggling that kept them from getting their much needed sleep. The giggling, unsurprisingly, from Cebu, and the kissing, also unsurprisingly, instigated by Kad. The noise abruptly came to a halt when Erestor cleared his throat rather meaningfully around midnight. Tuima did admit that Kad waited valiantly for some time to pass before he tried again.
“Cebu?” he’d whispered softly. “Cebu? Are you awake?”
“YES.” Came the peeved voice of Erestor.
There had been no more noise that night.
Tuima checked her herbal supply, making mental notes to gather several varieties as soon as possible. She almost shuddered to think of the state these mortals would be in if she hadn’t thought to bring the plants along to patch them up and then send them back out into Middle-Earth. Her sharp ears noted the change of Kad’s breathing patterns. He was waking up. Good. They needed to begin their march soon but the….oh. This should make for a perfectly nauseating day. And by the way Erestor’s spine stiffened, he’d come to the same conclusion as well.
Kad was staring intently into Cebu’s eyes as she woke up. “Mornin’.” He said, softly.
“Mmmm-hmm-hmm.” She giggled. “Good morning Kad.”
He responded with a wide grin and a kiss.
“How did you sleep last night?”
“So good. What about you?”
“Great.”
“That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah. “
The rest was lost to the eavesdroppers to the sound of Cebu’s giggles.
Tuima had of course noticed Erestor’s obvious detestation of close physical proximity. She just found it absolutely fascinating that he reacted in the exact same way if he saw someone else in close contact to another person.
His words were clipped and curt. “I am just wondering if it is crucial for the two of them to reside so close together. The climate here is a great deal warmer than the caves of Moria and they certainly didn’t feel the need to embrace every step of the way then.”
Tuima felt the need to defend her friends out of principle rather than a belief in their actions. “I believe that in their culture this is an important step in moving from platonic friends to something a bit more romantically inclined. They are merely taking the next step toward ……again?” she watched as the two mortals joined hands. “I do believe they’re…strolling.” Erestor’s voice was incredulous and disapproving all at the same time. “I believe it’s more of a meander.” Tuima volunteered. “And I take back what I just said. This is getting out of hand.”

They pressed on, wary of any stray orc that may have been separated from the group. It was a long shot, but the Immies found long shots to be normal, everyday occurrences, so it was best to stay alert. Erestor was particularly proactive in scouting the land they’d already covered. And if his eyesight just happened to rest on Kad and Cebu for a lengthy amount of time, it was surely for reconnaissance, and definitely not because he was trying to stop them with his frigid gaze. Kad, having finally achieved what he’d been angling for since the Dead Marshes, was completely oblivious to it all. Cebu on the other hand, being the one who couldn’t stand the idea that someone be unhappy, was all too aware of Erestor’s discomfort and that she was a key factor in it.
“Erestor,” Cebu asked worriedly, “Does all this… I mean, our kissing…well, is it bothering you?”
Erestor pulled himself up to his full height, and looked down on the pair of mortals, each word serious and cold. “Books placed on the wrong shelf bother me. Going to the trouble of retrieving all my knives after a confrontation with orcs bothers me. Being forced to endure the darkness of Moria…bothered me. But this, permit me to term the situation, frankly exorbitant exhibition of….” Erestor waved his hand at the two mortals, searching for just the right word.
Kad jumped in helpfully. “PDA.”
The scarred elf stared blankly at the boy. “I am unfamiliar with the term…P.D.A.”
“Public Display of Affection.” The dark haired boy grinned, obviously pleased with himself for knowing something that the elf did not. “It’s something we mortals like to do for fun. Oh, and fun, by the way, is an activity that brings enjoyment to a person, you know, just in case you were wondering what ‘fun’ was.”
Cebu giggled softly, and tried to change it to a cough when Erestor looked at her condescendingly. He continued, keeping his eyes locked on her, “My point is merely this: You’ve been at this…PDA,” one could almost hear a slight tremor in his voice as he voiced the letters, “all day. Surely you have grown bored with it by now.”
“Don’t tell us we’ve upset your delicate constitution with a little kissing.”
Tuima could plainly see that Kad was clearly enjoying himself. It was rare that something upset the Counselor.
“If you keep… cuddling… like that, I am likely to lose my sanity as well as my temper.”
“The thing I’m worried about losing,” said Tuima, surveying the two human’s tightly intertwined hands, “is my breakfast.”
“You two need to loosen up,” said Kad.
Erestor directed a flat look at Tuima. “I regret to tell you,” he said, drawing out one of his longer knives, “that in addition to losing our temper, sanity, and most recent meal, we are in grave danger of losing two traveling companions, as well.”
“I was more attached to my sanity, anyway,” said Tuima blandly. “Carry on.”
“Well…Kad…”All hope faded from Kad’s eyes as Cebu piped up. “They’re right, you know. We have been at it for quite some time now.”
Tuima knew what was coming. Cebu wouldn’t allow herself to do or be anything that would bother another breathing soul. What happened next stunned Tuima, to say the least about Erestor.
The redhead turned to the scarred elf and smiled angelically, “But really, Erestor, your knives are completely unnecessary. If it bothers you so much then just don’t watch."

“Move and she dies.”
Adremis’s last words had a number of different reactions amongst the surround group. A few of his fellow pirates grinned in anticipation of escape. Eredolyn’s fists curled into balls as she glowered at Adremis. Wlore’s gripped Eredolyn’s arm, as she and Brenz looked sideways to see if the King’s men were buying Adremis’s bluff, (well they hoped it was a bluff).
By the looks and gestures they certainly were convinced Eicy’s, now they’re Goddess, was in danger. A few were throwing Adremis some very similar looks to Eredolyn’s. Others were only a few twitches away from grabbing their weapons. The Captains face was torn between fear for the Goddess’s human form and hatred at the chance of loosing Adremis. He seemed unable to decide what to do. As such for two extremely long minutes, no one was sure what exactly to do.
Finally the Captain spoke.
“Surely you would not dare to kill a Goddess, and thus face the wrath of the divine?” he hissed through his teeth.
“I don’t believe in your Goddess, or any higher divinity,” Adremis replied.
The Captain could barely conceal his surprise. A moment passed as he screwed his face up in thought of another question.
“But then you surely would not kill an innocent young woman,” he asked desperately.
Adremis lifted Eicy’s head up a little higher, exposing her neck further.
“What evidence are you basing that conclusion on, Captain,” he answered, practically spitting out the last word.

Okay I no its not moving the plot forward but I am back to writing (and reading, moving through books like there is no tomorrow). So while my physical activity is severly deterioating at least I am back to doing something productive.
P.s. Please feel free to point out any mistakes, I'm a little rusty, and any science reports are not good practice.

This lovely little piece needs to go BEFORE my last post. I was recently inspired to take up writing again thanks to a smexy little drawing Eredolyn did of Kad. Glomp.

Kad slowly drifted into consciousness. Something good had happened right before he’d fallen asleep. Something really really good…Ah yes. Kissing. It involved Cebu and kissing. That had been awesome. The more he woke up the more aware he was aware of her curled against his side. He grinned, eyes still closed. Oh yeah. Don’t move. Having her near him just felt right and she fit perfectly in his arms. He sighed contentedly.
A warm ray of light shone on his face, insistently and deliberately bringing him further and further out of his sleepy mind-frame.
Wait a second…
Light.
RhegiThere was no time to think. Kad whirled to his feet, taking the familiar defensive posture in front of Cebu. The enemy’s torchlight blinded him and he desperately tried to see where they were coming from before they killed him and then went for her. It was so blwdi bright! There had to be hundreds of orcs to produce a light this intense!
“ERESTOR! TUIMA!” he shouted in panic. “WHERE ARE YOU?”

Cebu was instantly alert from the moment that Kad pulled away. She’d taken cover with well practiced moves, her hand reaching for the knives that always rested at her belt. The lessons Haldon and the other Rangers had given her was one reason she’d survived the mines. She’d learned the hard way that just because she removed herself from the fight didn’t mean that the fight always stayed removed from her. Every once in a while a stray monster found its way past the others in the chaos and dark of the fight and discovered her. Cebu learned quickly to dodge and weave. Haldon’s gift of knives came in handy more than once during their long arduous journey through the evil darkness of Moria. She’d learned to quickly find their kill spot before they found hers. Cebu found herself backed against something scratchy. Something brushed at her face and she whirled to face her attacker, staring stupidly instead at a tree trunk, its branches waving in the early morning breeze. She turned, confused towards Kad who was shielding his eyes against the blinding light, turning, trying to find the enemy with the torches. Slowly her mind registered the burning embers of their fire, dim in the early morning light and the small patch of trees they’d taken shelter in after the elves had disposed of the last orc patrol that had chased them…out of Moria.
We’re out. We’re out of Moria. It wasn’t torches that were making that blinding light...it was the-
“Kad…Kad.” Cebu called.
“Cebu! Stay down! I can’t see them!” he ordered her, panicked.
“I know. It’s ok. It’s ok! It’s just-“
“Where are they?” His voice was sharp and rife with anger and adrenaline.
It’s just the sun.” she said softly.
His frantic footwork slowed as the truth dawned on him. She watched him blink and then slowly shield his eyes from the early golden glow.
It was fascinating how the gauzy light poured over everything. This was going to take some getting used to. Cebu sat with her face lifted to the light and smiled as she felt the warmth of the sun’s rays. Kad sat next to her, his hand firmly intertwined with hers and together they watched the sun rise for the first time in months. Even with her eyes closed the sun insisted on shining through her eyelids. There was a warm and inviting pinkish glow behind her closed lids. Cebu had forgotten how much she loved the sunshine. She smiled as it pooled in her collarbone and caressed her grimy skin.
Kad watched the light slowly steal over their campsite, gleaming in corners around tree branches.
“I thought it was…”
“Torches. I know. Me too.”
The two elves walked back into camp, breakfast in Tuima’s hand and firewood in Erestor’s. The four travelers shared a look. The sunrise over the meadow was a strange and alien sight to them now compared to the dark and damp mines. Without ever saying anything they all knew that they would never willingly speak of their time in those caverns. Cebu could just imagine meeting up with the other Immies and sharing the stories of their adventures. When the time came to mention Moria all that would be said was that they’d been there.
Although they’d never speak of that place again the four of them would always remember the time they spent together, fighting for their very lives. But discussed or not, mentioned or not it had happened and nothing could ever destroy their bond. She couldn’t imagine any other situation that could be more horrifying than those months spent underground in the dark.

I see that Wlore is finished with her degree... and who knows what she's up to now! I wonder where the other members are... Dilly, Tuima, Eredolyn, Cebu, Eicys...??? What's happened to them in RL in the years since this was begun?

Well, whatever they're doing and wherever they are... I get an odd, homey feeling of fondness rushing over me when I returned to this site after all this time!!! I hope they may feel the same way, too.